SYNOPSIS: After a late night mission, all Tobias wants is to be in your loving embrace.
A/N: It’s all just fluff!!
Toby trudged through the freezing streets with only one destination in mind. Home.
The moon hung low above him, casting pale silver light across the pavement and making the quiet neighborhood feel even more still. He exhaled sharply, watching the puff of fog leave his lips, shoulders hunched against the biting cold. Not that he could feel it anyways. His converse scraped softly with each step as he dragged his feet, the only sound breaking the silence.
When your house finally came into view, he relaxed just a little, hand instinctively dipping into his pocket for the keys you’d given him. His fingers met nothing. He froze, then groaned under his breath.
“F-f…fuck.”
He checked again, like they might magically appear. Nope. Still empty. He must’ve left them back at the manor. Toby tilted his head toward your darkened window, a crooked smile slowly tugging at his lips.
“W-window it is…”
The drainpipe groaned quietly as he climbed, movements a bit clumsy but practiced enough. His gloves slipped once, converse soles scraping against the brick, but he hauled himself up anyway until he reached your window. He steadied himself, then lightly tapped the glass.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Inside, you stirred, lifting your head. At first, confusion crossed your face.
Brows pinched, eyes squinting, until your sleepy brain recognised the familiar messy hair and lopsided grin. Your expression softened instantly, melting into a bright, sleepy smile.
You shuffled over, wearing a cute tank top and fluffy pajama bottoms patterned with Care Bears, the soft fabric swishing as you moved. Toby’s grin widened at the sight.
The window slid open, letting in a rush of cold air.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he said, voice rough but playful, giving you his best attempt at charming, head tilted, eyes warm, and that familiar crooked smile that always gave him away.
“Suh-sorry… did I w-wake you?” he asked, not sounding sorry at all. You smiled anyway, shaking your head as you pushed yourself up on your elbows. “Nope. Just resting my eyes.”
His grin flickered, pleased, as he swung one leg over the windowsill and pulled himself inside. The moment his busted converse hit the floor he started stripping off his gear like he couldn’t stand the weight of it anymore. First the hatchet, the familiar one resting against your bedside table. His other rusty one was nowhere to be seen. Then the goggles, the muzzle, the heavy jacket. Each piece landed in a quiet pile. He toed off his shoes, peeled off the rugged jeans, and finally dragged his shirt over his head, until he was left in just his boxer shorts.
The single candle you’d left burning cast a soft glow across his skin, lighting up every scar and faint mark that mapped his body. They stretched over his shoulders, along his ribs, across his stomach. You’d seen them countless times, but the sight always made your chest tighten a little. Tonight, though, something felt different. He wasn’t tense in that restless way he usually was after a mission. He wasn’t streaked with dried blood, wasn’t smelling like smoke or metal. He looked calm. Almost tired in a softer way.
Before you could comment, he climbed onto the bed and gently but firmly nudged you backward. You let out a small laugh as you fell against the pillows. He settled himself between your legs, curling forward until his face pressed into your stomach. His arms wrapped around your waist, tightly as he was anchoring himself there.
You relaxed instantly, hands drifting to his hair. Your fingers worked slowly through the messy strands, massaging his scalp. He melted under the touch, shoulders loosening, a quiet content sound rumbling in his chest, the boy was practically purring due to your touch.
He clung to you a little tighter. His breathing evened out, warm against your shirt.
He must have had a tricky mission, or maybe something hadn’t gone quite right. Usually he came back jittery, restless, sometimes stained with blood that never belonged to him. Tonight he was different.
He took another deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he inhaled. It was almost intoxicating, the way you smelled. Fresh and sweet, like vanilla and something else he couldn't quite describe, something distinctly you. He was fucking addicted.
He let out a small hum of contentment, his grip on you tightening briefly before relaxing. "You s-smell so damn guh-good." he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing against your belly as your tank rode up.
“Go to sleep, baby.” You murmur gently.
YAY TOBY FLUFF!!! I haven’t wrote for my precious boy in ages!! ( ⸝⸝´ ᵕ `⸝⸝)
Heyo! Finally gotten around to requesting!! Ok so for Raphael of 2003: Back To The Sewers, how would Reader! react to Raphael height change? And how would Raphael react to being the same height now?
I remember when I was younger and finding out that Raphael grow taller and was my height I was over the hills!
Image Reader! being taller than Raph when they fell in love before they Fast Forward and when he comes back a year later he’s now eye level with Reader!
Love your writing! No pressure to write!
You’ve Grown (Fluff)
BTTS!Raphael x reader
A/N: Damn, can you give out some inches? Lol, just kidding. Keep your beautiful height❤️ I have made a few changes in regards to your requests. It’s never pinpointed exactly when they fall in love, but it becomes more and more clear throughout the story. And in regards to heights, I’ve changed it a little bit as well. I’m a little mip at 163cm, so Raph’s 174 is perfect in my book. Anyway, the reader's height is never stated, but they remain a little taller than Raph before Fast Forward. However, at the end, Raph actually grows taller than the reader. It’s never stated by how much, only that the reader has to look up, and even then, it’s never stated how far they have to look up. Hope you’ll enjoy!❤️
Raph and reader are 15 at the start of the story, and 19 at the end❤️
Warnings: Loooong, underage drinking, I might have cried a little bit at the end ngl❤️
One could describe you and Raphael’s relationship in many ways. Some would have called you best friends, who liked to tease and fight over the smallest things. Others would have called you a pair of wild dogs, due to the amount of playful bickering that went on between the two of you. But one thing everybody could agree on, was that your bond was unlike any other.
Whenever something big or newsworthy happened in your life, Raph was the first person you turned to, and when Raph learned a new trick with his sais or played a good prank on Mikey, you were the first he ran to in order to tell about it. If someone were looking for one of you, the other was not far behind, and if someone couldn’t find one of you, the other always knew (not that you always would tell whoever was asking).
You and Raph were just two teenagers, hanging out like normal teenagers would - except, one of you was a mutant ninja turtle living in the sewers of New York City, but who cares? You had many different types of friends in all shapes, sizes and looks, so a mutant would be much different. You were accepting of all kinds of people, and it was that friendly acceptance and easy goingness that made Raph gravitate towards you. He found you were nice to be around, and found that in your presence, he felt almost normal. Sure, he had Casey and April, who he also considered very close, but they were grown adults in their early to mid 20’s.
April was more like this caring and much older sister, who at times almost stepped in like a mom, and Casey very much felt like older sister’s boyfriend, who her brothers just seemed to get along with very well. Especially Raph, who very much saw Casey as a close friend, and yet another (maybe not as stable) male role model in his life. Casey liked to do the same things as Raph, but it didn’t feel like the same when he was with you. If Raph tried to talk about certain topics with Casey, he would start off sounding like this cool older guy, who had all these answers. But then he would trail off, slowly sounding like a strange mix between Master Splinter, Leonardo and Michelangelo, all while making less and less sense, until he finally found a way to bring April up. It just didn’t work or felt the same.
But with you, Raph could talk openly about so many things, he just couldn't talk to other people about. He could rant about his brothers (and on very rare occasions, his father), his feelings, thoughts and fears, and you just seemed to get it. There was just something about that teenage angst, that only other teenagers seemed to understand and be willing to take seriously, in ways adults just wouldn’t. And though you didn’t always experience the same feelings as Raph did, nor held the same amounts of frustration for certain things, you still understood him. You knew those feelings from other aspects of your life, and just like he shared his things with you, you shared yours with him.
When the two of you were 15 and had just met, it wasn’t strange for Raph to sneak out in order to hang out with you, on the roof of your apartment building. You joked around, ate all sorts of snacks you had brought along, just so Raph could have a taste of them. And with 15 year olds being 15 year olds, Raph’s brothers took notice of your friendship immediately. Raph, hanging out with a girl alone? Bringing the same girl to the lair so they could hangout on the couch until late at night, before finally falling asleep on opposite ends of the same couch early in the morning? Yeah, that was way too good of an opportunity to pass up. It became commonplace for his brothers to tease him, calling you his girlfriend whenever you weren’t around, much to the hot head’s annoyance. But the teasing would only get worse with time.
At 16, you and Raph decided to become trouble makers, and tried underage drinking for the first time together. You had found some of your parents’ cheap liquor, before climbing up on the roof with Raph, where you watched the few of the stars that were visible, despite the light pollution of the city, taking large swings of the bottle, until you were both laying flat against the roof. It was here you mentioned someone from your high school, who you had started to develop a crush on. Raph tried to be helpful, listening to you talk about them. They were pretty, handsome, funny and tall. And for the first time ever, he didn’t just feel subconscious about his green exterior, his lack of digits on hands and feet, the large shell on his back and his lack of hair, now he could also add height to the list. And that was when the realisation hit him - he was shorter than you. Not by much, but he was still shorter. And for some reason, that realization made him feel some type of way that he didn’t even dare to tell you about.
Once again, Raph’s brothers were quick to pick up on things, he didn’t want them to poke their lacking noses into. Raph started to measure his height. At first it was just a quick check, but soon it turned into something he did pretty much every morning. And of course, they had to mention it to you while you visited the lair. But you were as calm, casual and accepting as ever, giving Raph a side hug, telling him and the others that it was okay. You thought that it was cute that he was a little shorter. And once you left the lair, that sentence would he yelled at Raph in high pitch tones, until he started hunting in brothers down with the intention of beating them up.
At 17, you had your first romantic partner. And just like your crush a year earlier, they were good looking and tall. It was a short lived relationship that ended almost as soon as it had started. Raph pretended not to feel relieved by it, staying by your side as your supportive friend as you got through the teenage breakup. Raph had never met the person (thankfully), but he had seen them. Not that Raph would admit it, but he has once watched the two of you on walk, just to see whoever had managed to get a hold of his best friend. And the first thing he noticed was their height. Taller than you, to the point where you almost had to stand on your toes in order to kiss them. Not that Raph stayed long enough to see it, but his vivid imagination had already played that scene in his head, more than he liked it to.
But once you got over your break up, everything was back to normal. Or, almost. You still hangout, got drunk on a few weekends, and watched movies later than what should be allowed. Raph’s brothers still teased him, but now they would sometimes whistle at the two of you. How a death stare from two people could look so much alike, was still a mystery they liked to joke about. Once you even yelled at them, in a way much like Raph would do, but you said it in a way Raph never could get out of his head.
“Are you saying a boy and a girl can’t be friends?”, you asked in a stern voice. That question shouldn’t have cut him as deep as it should have, but it did. A boy and a girl. Not a man and a woman? All of you were almost 18, and you still called him a boy. Was that because that was how you saw him? As someone small with a feisty temper at times, who would forever be just that, small. Shorter than you.
At 18, a lot happened. So much that even after all Raph and his family and friends have been through, he would probably call it the most turbulent time of his life.
A short time after the turtles had celebrated their 18th birthday, Casey brought Raph out to an abandoned theme park so that they could explore it. Here they found an old minigolf park, and decided to see who could send a ball flying over the ferris wheel. It was here, after Raph took a swing, sending a ball flying into one of the wheel carts with so much power that it caused a large dent, Casey finally decided to ask Raph something. Not make fun of Raph, but actually ask him.
“Does (Y/N) know ya have a thing for her?”
Raph blinked a few times, taken aback by the question. One thing was to be teased for almost three years straight, but to have someone ask him. Raph wasn’t prepared for that.
“What are ya talkin’ about?”, Raph asked, looking at Casey like he was a lunatic.
“Ya know exactly what I’m talkin’ about”, Casey answered, swinging a ball with so much power, it hit one of the wheel beams with an echoing bang. “As ya grow older, ya start to develop an eye for such things”.
Raph chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking about his next words carefully, realizing he might just be about to admit something he had tried to avoid for years.
“No”, Raph finally said, searching the ground for another ball so he didn’t have to look at Casey. “I don’t think she knows”. Raph found another ball, young the club to roll it over in front of him. “And I don’t think she cares about me like that”.
“Why not?”, Casey asked, leaning on his way too short club, looking more comical than he had intended to.
Raph shrugged his shoulders. “She doesn't think I’m man enough”.
Casey laughed out loud, which caused Raph to shoot him a glare.
“Dude, if anybody would be man enough, it would be you”, Casey laughed, before he started counting reasons on his free hand. “Ninja, saved New York City more than once, have gained mystical powers, travelled through time and space. Hell, do ya remember the time the Purple Dragons had me captured? Ya kicked some serious butt”.
“Yeah, but that’s not the same”, Raph said, twisting the club in his hand, eyes focusing on somewhere just left from the golf ball on the ground. “It doesn’t change the way she sees me”.
“Hey man, listen”, Casey said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Sometimes it may not seem like the people we care about, view us the way we want them to, but that’s okay. Sometimes they see us as something much better than what we imagine. And what can we do about it? Not give up and keep trying. I mean, how else do ya think I managed to bag April?”
“By being a constant pest in her life?”
“Exactly!”, Casey said, giving Raph’s shoulder a clap that would cause a normal human man to fall over. “I never gave up. I quit being the version I wanted April to see me as, and stuck to the real me. Because April saw the real me as something much better than I did. Ya see what I mean? Yeah? Then stop wanting (Y/N) to view ya as what ya think is “man enough”, and be the real version. The real Raphael. And I promise ya, she will come around. Now, go at it, big tiger, and show that ferries wheel who’s the man!”
Raph chuckled and shook his head as the 27 year old, before taking position by the golf ball. He gave it one hard swing, hearing the club swoosh through the air, sending the golf ball flying through the center hole in the middle of the ferries wheel. Though the goal had been to get the ball over the wheel, he could not deny how impressive that shot was.
But before Raph could put Casey’s words into action, the world had to throw him a curve ball, almost as if the universe wanted to make sure that Raph had actually understood what the hockey player had told him. Because the same evening, he, his brothers and his father, was sent around 100 years into the future. 99 years to be exact, but that didn’t change much.
At first Raph thought it was some cruel joke. Finally he admits to himself that he actually likes you, and that he might actually be good enough for you, and boom. Now his arguing with a mechanic butler about house rules, while the great grandson of the man who had helped him realize his feelings for you, tried his best to mediate the situation.
One day in the year 2105 turned into a week, a week turned into a month, and before he knew it, it had been a whole year, with the summer of 2106 looking just like the previous year. But gods, had a lot changed in that one year.
Raph and his brothers had grown a year older, and graduated from genin to chunin. In one more year, Raph and his brothers would no longer be considered teenagers, but actual men. That had made him take a moment more than once, just to wrap his head around the whole thing. It was wild.
Raph had a chance to flirt with aliens and humans (not that much came from any of them, or that Raph really intended to go anywhere), getting a surprising idea of how well he could actually charm people, causing him to wonder if he had been able to flirt that easily with you back home, if he had allowed himself to.
He had more than one chance to stare himself down in a battle (or at least an alien clone), which caused him to stop and think several times afterwards. His clone was much like, well, how he had feared you viewed him back home. Well, expect his size. Dark Raph was big in every way, making Raphael much more content with his current height.
Speaking of height - Raph had grown. In one year he had shot to the sky, outgrown all three of his brothers, now standing tall at 174cm. It wasn’t as stall as your ex or your crush from high school, but it was surely something. Something Raph felt very proud of. And boi, did he wish you could see him now…
Luckily for Raph, he didn’t have to wish for long, as Donnie finally found a way to get them all back home to their own time…
—
You ran faster than you could recall you had done before. The sound of your shoes hitting against the sidewalk with every spring-like run.
Not even a minute ago, you had gotten a text from April, telling you to come to the turtles home. They were back. And quick you were, running so fast you hadn’t even noticed where you were, saw them all before you in the water station.
The first to notice you was Raph, his eyes widening as soon as you ran into the room.
“(Y/N)?”, he asked, uncrossing his arms as he slowly turned his whole body towards you.
You were so overcome with emotions, pure happiness bobbling within you. You couldn’t speak, instead running at Raphael, throwing your arms around him as you hid your face against his shoulder, holding back your sobs of relief. Raph was quick to wrap his own arms around you, holding you tight as he rocked the two of you from side to side. Somewhere out of sight, Casey acted quick and careful, guiding the crowd away, letting the two of you get some time alone.
After a moment like this, you slowly pulled from Raph, your arms still around each other as you looked up at him… And that was the moment you realized you had to look up at him. Your eyes darted across his face as a small, almost mesmerized smile spread over your face.
“Raph”, you said, your voice threatening to crack. “You’ve grown”.
“I have”, Raph said, smiling at you in a way that made your heart beat faster, threatening to do back flips in your chest. He then slowly guided your head to his shoulder once again, wrapping his arms snuggly around you, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, before resting his cheek on top of your head, repeating in a whisper, almost more to himself than you. “I have”.
the key turns in the lock and the door opens. heavy boots walk over the floorboards. not his.
his boots sound weighted, not just physically.
these sound lighter. more eased up.
you couldn‘t bother to get up from under your weighted blanket.
you recognized the man by face.
"aye, lass. b'fore yer mind runs circles, he‘s livin' an' well. yer old cranky sime needs a bit of calm. said he didn‘t wannae load off his… ya kno‘… tha‘ op wasn‘t exactly… smooth, ye know? jus' comin' over tae… he said tae ease yer mind, cuz he knows ya tend ta‘ get… giddy when yer not hearin‘ of 'im."
"you know when he‘s back?"
"won‘t be long, lass."
"week?"
"dunnae."
"then don‘t say it won‘t be long" you turn away from him"
soap sighs, "lassie, c'mon, dunnae turn away from meh! don‘t shoot the messenger!"
"at least i know he‘s alive. thanks."
"want me tah go to tesco or som'in? get yer sum ice cream?"
"no need. have enough."
"ya still have sum in yer bucket?" he points at your ben and jerry‘s.
you shake your head.
"lemme get yer sum more."
"no. i‘m eating too much ice."
"well, if yer in need of anythin‘, i‘m in the guest room."
"i can handle myself."
"yer man knew you‘d say tha‘, so he left me a message for ye."
he pulls out his phone and presses play on what you assume is a voice message. as his voice comes through soap‘s phone speakers, your body turns on the bed, now facing soap again. what 6 weeks of not hearing your man‘s voice does to a girl.
"love, if yer hearing this, then you‘re refusing soap to help you. i know you wanna se me right now, but i can‘t let you see me like… like this. it‘ll be a little while before i‘ll come back, but i will, 'kay? love yer."
you‘re not particularly messy. you like it clean, tidy, to find everything where you left it the day before.
but whenever he‘s gone, that whole thing falls apart. the dishes become a "i‘ll do it tomorrow" thing, the dust builds up on top of your guitars hanging on the wall and the garden grows like nature intended it to. wildly.
so, soap helps. does the dishes. cleans every speck of dust up, mows the lawn and cuts the wild flowers. he charges your replacement pair of anc headphones. he crawls under the bed to grab the tv remote you under there lost a week ago. he throws out the empty bags of chips (crisps) that have been laying on the ground. he‘s an angel to you.
it does annoy you a little, he‘s always hovering, asking if he can help, and you‘re agitated by it. you‘re not letting it show, but you‘d rather be alone. although you know he‘s not being annoying with ill intent.
a week passes by…
your nap gets rudely interrupted by a large hand shaking your body. the noise canceling headphones shut out your man loudly calling your name.
you push away the blanket to find your man - simon - your simon - yours truly - calling out your name.
"y/n? lassie? i‘m back and now yer not lookin‘ me in my eyes anymore?" he seems lighter, the weight of the military off of him for at least a good while.
"siiiiii."
"'m back now, dove."
"siiiiiiiiii."
"yeeees?"
"soap is annoyiiiiiing."
"oh, you don‘t say."
"it‘s not his fault tho."
—————
a/n: if i messed up the scottish accent pls don‘t murder me lol i don‘t know how to write it 😭
Rex was sprawled across the couch with his head resting on your lap while you slowly pulled apart his messy bun, letting his hair fall loose through your fingers.
The second your nails scratched lightly against his scalp, he melted.
Actually melted.
His eyes closed instantly while a tired sigh escaped him.
“There he is…” you cooed softly in your sweetest baby voice while pecking his jaw. “My poor baby boy…”
Rex groaned dramatically but made absolutely zero effort to move away.
“Don’t start…”
“Ay nooo…” you continued lovingly, scratching his head slowly. “My hardworking man is tired? Hmm?”
He buried his face against your stomach immediately.
“Maybe.”
“And sad?”
“…Maybe.”
You smiled so softly at that and spoiled his forehead and neck with gentle kisses while scratching along his back.
“No no mi amor…” you whispered affectionately. “I’m here.”
Rex physically relaxed more with every touch.
Because honestly?
Nobody had ever cared for him this gently before.
Not consistently.
Not without wanting something back.
And the way you looked at him while babying him—like he deserved tenderness simply for existing—did something dangerous to his heart every single time.
“What’s wrong, papi hmm?” you cooed again while pecking his cheek.
Rex whined quietly at the nickname and hid his red face against you harder.
“You’re embarrassing.”
“You love me.”
“…Unfortunately.”
You giggled proudly while continuing to play with his hair until eventually he fell asleep right there on your lap.
And that’s exactly when your secret mission began.
⸻
At 5:00 a.m., you were already awake.
The apartment smelled like vanilla, coffee, and sugar while you quietly baked his favorite cake from scratch.
Soft music played in the background as you moved around in oversized pajamas decorating the apartment with streamers, lights, little handmade signs, and green-and-gold decorations that reminded you of him.
You made his favorite breakfast.
Packed his lunch carefully.
Even put tiny notes inside the containers.
By the time sunrise started glowing softly through the windows, everything was ready.
And at exactly 7:00 a.m., you slipped quietly into the bedroom carrying a tiny cupcake with a candle.
He was still asleep, hair messy across the pillow, completely unaware.
You climbed gently onto the bed beside him and started singing softly.
“Happy birthday to you…”
Rex stirred slowly with a sleepy groan.
“…wha…”
His eyes blinked open blearily only to find you kneeling beside him smiling warmly while candlelight flickered between you.
And for a second—
he just stared.
Still half asleep.
Trying to process the decorations visible outside the room.
The smell of cake.
Your soft singing voice.
The fact somebody remembered.
Somebody cared enough to make all this for him.
His throat tightened instantly.
You kept smiling sweetly while finishing the song softly and brushing messy hair away from his forehead.
“Happy birthday, baby.”
Rex looked at you like his heart had just cracked open quietly.
Because nobody had ever done something like this for him before
Rex Splode just sat there frozen for a moment, staring at the tiny candle flickering between you.
The room still sleepy and warm from sunrise.
Decorations hanging softly around the walls.
The smell of breakfast drifting through the apartment.
And you—
kneeling in front of him smiling like this was the most natural thing in the world.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t blow the candle.
Didn’t even seem to know what he was supposed to do.
Your smile softened immediately.
With your telekinesis, you carefully floated the cupcake away so you could lean forward and wrap your arms around him instead.
“Awwww papi…” you murmured lovingly, caressing the back of his head gently. “What happened?”
Rex swallowed hard.
You cupped his face softly between your hands, thumbs brushing his cheeks while looking into his eyes with concern.
“What’s wrong mi amor?” you asked quietly. “Blow the candles… u don’t like your surprise?”
His eyes widened immediately.
“No— no, mama, I love it.”
His voice cracked slightly near the end.
And that’s when you understood.
You glanced around the room too:
the decorations,
the cake,
the breakfast waiting outside,
the tiny notes you’d left everywhere.
Then back at him again.
“What’s wrong papi…” you whispered softly. “What’s on your mind hmm?”
Rex looked down for a second before laughing weakly under his breath.
“I just…”
He rubbed a hand over his face emotionally.
“I dunno what to do with all this.”
Your expression softened even more.
Rex looked around again slowly, almost disbelieving.
“Nobody’s ever…” He stopped. “Not like this.”
Your heart ached instantly.
He looked back at you finally.
“You remembered everything.”
The way he said it sounded almost fragile.
Like he still couldn’t fully understand why someone would care enough to wake up early, decorate an apartment, bake a cake from scratch, make his favorite foods, and look this excited just because he existed another year.
You smiled gently and brushed your fingers through his messy hair.
“Of course I remembered.”
Rex’s eyes watered a little despite him trying to hide it.
And honestly?
Seeing him like this—
soft,
overwhelmed,
completely loved—
made your chest hurt too.
“You deserve nice things too, baby,” you whispered.
That one nearly broke him.
Rex leaned forward suddenly and buried his face against your shoulder while holding onto you tightly.
You immediately wrapped your arms around him again, stroking his hair lovingly.
“No crying on your birthday,” you teased softly.
“I’m not crying.”
“You’re squeezing me like a stressed python.”
He laughed weakly against your shoulder.
Then after a quiet moment, you pulled back just enough to smile at him again and point dramatically toward the candle.
“Now,” you declared warmly, “make a wish, birthday boy.”
You stayed kneeling in front of Rex Splode smiling brightly while the little candle flickered softly between both of you.
Your eyes were practically sparkling with excitement.
“C’mon,” you whispered happily. “Blow the candles.”
Rex looked at you first instead of the cupcake.
And honestly?
For a second he thought this might actually be the wish.
You sitting there in oversized pajamas,
hair messy from waking up early,
looking ridiculously proud of making him feel loved.
His chest tightened all over again.
You tilted your head waiting patiently.
“Well? Before the cupcake melts.”
That finally made him laugh softly.
“Cupcakes don’t melt.”
“You don’t know that.”
Rex shook his head fondly and leaned forward slightly.
Before blowing the candle out, though, he paused.
“What’d you wish for?” you asked immediately.
“You’re not supposed to say.”
You gasped dramatically.
“Ugh. So secretive.”
Rex smiled softly at your pout.
Then finally—
he blew the candle out.
You clapped immediately like he had just accomplished something incredible.
“YAYYY!”
Rex burst out laughing.
“You are so cute.”
“No, no.” You pointed proudly at him. “Birthday rules. Now hug.”
“Those aren’t rules.”
“They are in Latin households.”
Rex snorted and immediately pulled you into his lap anyway while you laughed happily.
The room smelled like sugar and coffee and vanilla frosting.
Morning sunlight spilled softly through the curtains.
And for once, Rex didn’t feel like birthdays were something awkward to survive.
Because now they looked like this:
You smiling at him like he mattered.
Homemade cake.
Warm food.
Soft kisses.
A home filled with love instead of loneliness.
And while you kept rambling excitedly about breakfast and presents and decorations—
Rex held you close quietly for a second longer, realizing this was probably the happiest birthday he’d ever had.
Summary: Dick yearning for a nerdy girl who constantly talks about her new books or new science inventions, he doesn't understand shit and they have to look stuff up constantly trying to keep up with her
requests are open
dividers by @cafekitsune
Dick didn’t believe in love at first sight.
He believed in proximity. Shared moments. Laughter over mismatched socks and long nights spent brushing teeth in silence. He believed in the slow build—accumulated glances, casual touches, the way someone’s name sounded when said too softly, too often.
But if there was ever a moment that could challenge that belief, it was the first time he saw you.
You were arguing with the Dean of Gotham University’s Applied Sciences Department in the hallway. Over orbital velocity.
You weren’t angry, not really—your hands moved too freely for that. You were passionate. Bright-eyed. Electric. You rattled off calculations like poetry, numbers and terms Dick didn’t understand but wanted to memorize anyway.
She’s speaking Latin, he thought. No. Star-language. This woman is built of solar flares and syllables I don’t know how to pronounce.
He was there for a guest lecture on criminology. You were late to a meeting. You brushed past him, eyes distant, your bag slamming into his side without apology.
Dick fell in love with the sound of your thoughts.
He asked Barbara who you were.
“She’s scary smart,” Babs said, smirking over her coffee. “Don’t get your hopes up, Grayson. I tried to get her to help me debug something once and she built a better algorithm in ten minutes while eating a croissant.”
So of course he pursued you.
Like any normal person, Dick decided to attend your public seminars. Which meant sitting in the back of overcrowded rooms next to grad students who whispered things like Did she really reverse-engineer a nuclear model for fun?
He didn’t understand 70% of what you said. But he liked the way your eyes lit up when you talked about gravitational wave detection or microbial communication. You swore like a sailor when you explained things and always had chalk on your hands, like your mind spilled out of you faster than you could contain it.
He wasn’t your type. That much was obvious.
You liked brilliant, slightly aloof, lab-coated types who forgot to eat dinner because they were too busy decoding the genetic memory of fungi. Not acrobats who carried grappling hooks and read crime scene reports for breakfast.
Still. He wanted to know you.
You met properly during a blackout in the city.
You were in the lobby of your building, trying to coax a neighbor’s ancient cat out from under the vending machine with a laser pointer and tuna.
“Need a hand?” he asked, half-laughing, crouched beside you in the dark.
You looked at him. Really looked at him. Something shifted.
“I’ve seen you before,” you said. “You’re the guy who keeps showing up to my astrophysics lectures and pretending to take notes.”
Dick flushed. “Guilty.”
“You looked very confused during the part on dark matter.”
“To be fair, I was still trying to figure out what the Standard Model was.”
You smirked, tugged the cat out gently, handed it off to a grateful neighbor, and turned to him.
“Buy me coffee and I’ll explain it to you.”
He did. He also fell in love with the way you dunked your biscotti and talked about string theory like it was a romance novel.
Dating you was like orbiting a star.
You were radiant. Intense. Impossible not to be drawn to. You had ten books on your nightstand and a half-finished whiteboard formula in your kitchen. You wore socks with chemical structures on them and got distracted mid-sentence to scribble ideas on napkins.
And Dick—he tried.
God, he tried.
He watched documentaries. Asked Babs for help. Subscribed to every science podcast with a halfway decent host.
You’d curl up beside him, humming as you flipped through papers, occasionally whispering things like, “Did you know Venus rotates backwards?” or “There’s a protein in tardigrades that basically makes them immortal.”
He didn’t understand half of it.
But he loved listening. Because you came alive when you spoke. And every time he saw your hands moving, sketching new ideas in the air, he swore the rest of the world went quiet.
It wasn’t all stardust and poetry.
Dick had his own shadows. Long nights. Bruised ribs. The part of himself that couldn’t always talk about where he was or what he saw.
You didn’t push. But sometimes he saw the questions in your eyes. And sometimes, when you were halfway through explaining a recent breakthrough in bioluminescent engineering, you’d stop, tilt your head, and say:
“You’re not really here, are you?”
“I am,” he always said. “I’m trying.”
You’d nod, but the distance would settle in like fog.
One night, you found his emergency burner phone in the couch cushions. The message on it: “Warehouse raid at 2 a.m. Bring backup.”
He expected you to yell. Or leave.
Instead, you said, “You’re him, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“Nightwing.”
Dick froze.
You looked calm. Tired, but calm. “I’ve cross-referenced your injuries, time away, and your avoidance of any real explanations. You’re either a spy or a vigilante. And given your gymnastic abilities and the way you keep bruising your ribs…”
He blinked. “You figured that out from my rib injuries?”
You shrugged. “The pattern matched a common trajectory of reinforced police batons. I ran the math.”
He laughed. Then kissed you. Then cried a little into your shoulder when you said, “I still want you to be safe. But I’m not leaving.”
One night, you were on the phone with your lab while cooking stir fry with your free hand and explaining CRISPR to Damian, who’d just dropped by to borrow a biology textbook.
Tim was there too, sitting at the counter with a furrowed brow and an empty notepad.
“Wait—wait, can you say that again?” Tim asked, already flipping through his calculus workbook.
Dick walked in and stopped in the doorway.
There you were—hair messy, glasses askew, hoodie half-tucked—and two of the smartest people he knew were hanging on your every word.
Tim scribbled notes while you corrected a theorem. Damian asked about mitochondrial DNA. You didn’t even pause while plating dinner with your foot.
And Dick?
He leaned on the doorframe and watched you—half in awe, half jealous.
Because he used to be the one who lit up when you talked. He used to be the one who asked all the questions, tried to keep up. Now the boys were stealing your brain, your laugh, your look at this cool thing I just discovered!
He sighed a little too loudly.
You turned, eyes wide. “Hey, babe. Hungry?”
“I could eat.”
Tim looked up. “She just explained the Schrödinger equation using scrambled eggs.”
“Of course she did,” Dick muttered, kissing your temple. “Because that’s sexy now, apparently.”
You grinned. “Oh? You jealous?”
Dick looked at your two very eager pupils.
“…Maybe a little.”
Later that night, you found him in bed with a beginner’s book on astrophysics.
You laughed. “Babe.”
“I need to catch up. I don’t want to lose you to Tim and Damian.”
“You’re not going to lose me.”
“They understand your brain.”
You crawled into his lap, took the book from his hands, and kissed him softly. “You don’t have to understand everything I say. You just have to listen.”
“I do listen.”
“I know. That’s why I love you.”
Dick paused. Blinked. “You love me?”
You smiled. “Was that not obvious?”
He pulled you into his chest and whispered, “I’m in orbit, sweetheart. Always have been.”
And you?
You curled up against him, heart steady, mind quiet for once, knowing that no matter how fast your thoughts spun, he’d always be right there—trying, listening, loving you through it all.
summary: you wake up late on the hail mary, and grace doesn't seem to remember anything about you—or, your relationship. you don't know how to break the news to him. (a continuation of love hypotheticals, but can be read as a standalone!)
pairing: ryland grace x reader
word count: 4.7k
tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, temporary amnesia, avoidance, close proximity, awkward flirting, avoidance, tending to injuries, ryland grace doesn't know how to be nonchalant — and neither does reader
cross-posted to ao3
The force with which you slam open the door to Stratt’s office echoes down the hall—loud enough to trigger a couple of security detail officers to rush in behind you. They concede only as Stratt raises her hand up and nods for them to shut the door. Her relentless calm against your impatience only urges intensity. “Send me up. I want you to send me up,” you demand, nails digging into your plans. It’s your first time, after all this time working for Stratt, that you’ve ever been upset at her. It’s a foreign feeling, being so incensed with someone so excessively authoritative.
“Sit,” Stratt tells you. Her eyes are wide despite her well-kept composure; she would’ve expected this from anyone but you—her calm-and-cool documentation specialist. Begrudgingly, chest rising and falling rapidly, you sit. It feels a step down from your initial entrance. A part of you wants to. drag all of her files with thrown-out arms onto the floor—but you know that’ll only make her more bewildered with you.
Instead, you repeat: “Send me up with him.” It was clear to everyone but Grace what was going to happen to him after the accident. When DuBois and Shapiro passed, you had wept to him in his bunk—head rested on his chest as he thumbed the muscle of your shoulder. And, he simply hadn’t known that you were crying for him, too. You loved Grace, even though you’d only just gotten to know him. You’d just gotten to know him, and it was going well.
Stratt is quick to reject your request, you can tell, by the way her lips pucker in dissatisfaction. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”
“I know what I’m asking and I want you to do it,” you affirm. “You can say that Grace and Yao and Ilyukhina don’t know two cents about documentation,” It’s a good excuse, and you know it is because you’ve spent the past few hours thinking it up. All Stratt needs to do is feed it to the committee. “DuBois would’ve done that job, bless his soul. I can do it in his place. Same job up there as I do down here, and I’m good—you know that. I can be useful.” Utilitarian, first. You know Stratt well enough to cover all your bases.
Decent justifications. You can see Stratt crack just slightly. She shakes her head disapprovingly, “We would have to recalculate for launch to account for your rations and your belongings. It would take an extra week to account for the extra weight. And you’d have to get fitted for a suit.” With an authority as uninhibited as hers, all Stratt needs to do is say yes. All the logistics are not as much of a barrier as she’s making it out to be.
So, you have to be more point-blank: “He might hate you for sending me up, and for a while, he might hate me even more for making you do it.” That part frightens you more than the act of doing it: Grace’s disappointment seeing you on the same suicide mission that he’s been relinquished to. It’s strange, though, that you haven’t felt more sure about something in your whole life. You want to be with Grace. “He has to go up. We all know it, even if he thinks he’s not fit for it.” You glance down at your lap, and back up at Stratt, “You care for him, don’t you?”
She’s quiet. You push harder, “I know you do, or you wouldn’t go through all the effort to take care of him. I’m asking you to do this for him. Let me do this. He needs me.”
“You’ve only just met,” Stratt counters. For a moment, she sounds like your mother—scolding you for running away, in some juvenile act of defiance. It’s possible that Stratt cares about you even more than she does Grace. You’ve known her for double the time that he has, and worked with her just as closely. Your most generous assumption of her feelings towards you is that of a caring mentorship.
“And it will have been worth it in the end. You have to believe that.” The last thing you’re sure about is that Stratt has seen you and Grace together from the beginning. How you had liked Grace and Grace had liked you. How you’d kept each other company all of those months. How you’d spend all those dull morning meetings passing notes to each other. How, after one of those wistful karaoke nights, you’d been holding hands at the bar seats—Rylan’s cardigan draped over your shoulders.
It’s a set plan. You’ll be missing on the day that Stratt asks him to go up—some excuse about Yao and Ilyukhina needing your informational support after DuBois’ passing. And, inevitably, when she forces him to go up, you’ll be packing your go-box to be loaded onto the Hail Mary. Grace will run out to the field to evade the anesthetic, and you will be nowhere. In the end, he’d have fought harder if he knew you were planning on going up there with him.
—
When you wake up from the coma, you’re quick to shed yourself of the plastic wrapping, the intubation, and the rest of the IV and tubing with sweaty, frightened palms. It takes you a minute to orient yourself—dead, black air outside the portholes, the bleak whiteness of the ship’s hull. You’re in a bedding unit on the ground floor, accompanied by the automated whirring of a robotic arm. “What is the capital of California?” the computer repeats, “What is the capital of California?” When you look up, the rest of the pods shut, you know clearly what you have to do.
“Consciousness detected. User 4,” the computer rattles on as you clamber up the ladder, bare in the stark-white underwear they sent you up in. You remember—Stratt, “not enough time to code your information into the ship’s computer”—as glance down the robotic arm spinning on the floor below. When you climb up to slide each of the coma pods open, with no avail—there’s absolutely no one home—you realize that you must’ve woken up a little late. You have to find him. They must be around somewhere, but it’s all eerily quiet.
The hull of the ship is… not exactly what you remember it to be. You’d done only one walkdown with the rest of the crew, and it never once had anything like this. There are these strange crystallized structures mounted up on the walls, lined with dark geometrical frames. “What the hell,” you mutter. You come up to one of the larger structures in the containment room, and tap your hand on the crystalline surface of it. It’s anything but normal, and still, no crew in sight. You feel like you might be sick from the implication.
It’s not before long that you hear a repeated thunking along the floor just outside in the room over. Before long, there’s a smaller version of the structure hurdling in. You feel your stomach drop at the sight. Inside, there’s some kind of spidery thing making its way towards you, appendages rapping closely against the glass shell to wheel along. It feels like something straight out of Alien, and you’re very sure that you need to start running.
“Oh, no. Nope.” You shoot your arms out, looking for anything to throw. If a bunch of these beings have taken over the Hail Mary, and possibly captured the rest of your missing crew of three… it's awfully neat. There’s nothing on the ground, no signs of struggle, and absolutely nothing to throw.
“Grace. Grace. Grace,” an automated voice buzzes out. What? Your jaw goes slack. This thing knows your boyfriend’s—no, you’re not even sure you’d gotten that far—Grace’s name.
There’s a raspy voice echoing down the hall that’s all too familiar: “Rocky, I said I need an extra hand. You’re not still mad at me about the eating thing, are you?” You can already feel the tears welling up in your eyes. You remember clearly how you let Stratt stick you with the syringe. You’d done it for him, and he’s here—and you’re both here. Everything according to plan. Except the alien, of course. Still, he rolls back and forth, back and forth in front of you.
“Grace, friend awake. Grace, come now,” it buzzes again, pressing up flush against the containment of the glass, as if trying to examine you. “Come, come, come, come…” All things considered, it doesn’t appear that this thing wants to eat you.
You have to cough a few good times, massaging at your throat, before yelling out a crackly: “Grace!” There’s a clatter—the sound of something metal dropping onto the floor, glass breaking. Then, rushed steps. He stands in the doorway, hands locked behind his head, eyes wide with his glasses hanging off the edge of his face. You run straight into him, arms shooting around his waist.
“You’re awake,” Grace says. You can feel his arms wrap slowly around you as you press your ear to his chest. Though, for you, it only feels like a long nap since you’ve last seen Grace, you can’t be sure how long it’s been for him.
Rocky, you remember Grace calling him, rolls toward the two of you: “This is hug, question?”
Grace nods, chin coming up against the top of your head. “Yes, Rock—this is a hug,” he looks down at you, astounded, “And… uh, morning. I didn’t think you’d wake up. System advised against taking you out myself, and—”
You can’t be bothered to peel yourself off of him. “Just be quiet a second, Grace. I’m just trying to soak in the fact that you’re okay.” Before they put you under, you’d considered plenty of scenarios about how he’d react to your being on the Hail Mary when you both woke up. His confusion, a possible hint of anger. Now, he’s… rather pacified. You reach up to run your hands through his scruffy blonde hair, nails dragging it on his scalp. He’s watching you check over his face with intent.
“Oh. This is… nice,” he hums, eyebrows knitted together. You must look strange, inspecting him like this—but for you, on that last day you hadn’t been sure that either of you would get up to space safely. Grace is just as handsome as he was when you left him, and the yellow NASA jumpsuit on him reminds you only of his old raincoat.
You have to tilt your head up to kiss him, and as soon as you get remotely close, he seems to straighten up and away from you. “I’m sorry, I can’t—I’m married.” You retract from Grace stiffly. Was he married? No, that doesn’t make sense; he couldn’t have been married, he lived alone—one ex. He had an ex before. And then, he had you. Grace tells you, “I don’t know why I know that, but I’m very certain about it. In here.” He taps his index finger against his right temple. You have to think it over again.
“Right. Sorry,” you say deliberately. It’s a perfect chance to solve it then and there—Are you? or No, you’re not.—but there’s an obstruction, you remember now, Stratt’s words: He won’t remember a single thing about himself. Echoes, if anything. “I’m just… super happy to see that everything’s doing well,” you tell him, “Just got ahead of myself.” Maybe it’s the easy way out, avoiding the truth of your circumstances and his. It’s too immediate, too real. You can see Grace squeeze his hands together in an anxious kind of manner, how you’d seen him do when he had a time crunch on the project and didn’t want Stratt to be pissed with him.
—
Per your lack of actual belongings, Grace lets you borrow a pair of boxers and a t-shirt of his. In the reflection of the windows, black space and your own silhouette, you have to wonder what just the three of you are going to do. No Yao, no Ilyukhina. News of their passing gives you a bout of nausea, to which Grace resolves with a bottled water and an assurance that their burials were nothing but peaceful. Though there’s a lingering sense of urgency for you to be around Grace, you can’t exactly push it. Married? Grace seems flighty around you within the first couple of hours of your waking up from the coma, like he’s frightened to be caught in the same room as you. When you give him your name, he doesn’t seem to react to it in any way. It’s like some odd fever dream.
You figure it all has to be taken in little by little. The two of you agree to have a bit of alone time—if that’s even possible—in the projection room. Together, the two of you settle on a beach ambience, all fog and homely. For a moment, with the digitalized sound bouncing around the enclosed sphere, you can pretend that the two of you are there, sitting on the sand together with your knees pulled up to your chests. Grace starts. “So, your name isn’t on Mary’s manifest. Are you some kind of stowaway?” There’s a commitment to his words, a seriousness just beneath the joke that makes you pull back an immediate answer.
You can’t even comprehend what Grace might think when you tell him—if he’ll be heartbroken that you’re there, if he’ll be made that you martyred yourself for him. So, you keep it vague: “I thought it best fit for the project to be sent up with the three of you. I’m still shocked that I swung it, but I did.”
“They just let you come up?” His skepticism makes you nervous. Maybe, Stratt was right. You aren’t supposed to be on the Hail Mary, and you never were; you were only meant to document and archive and keep track of the information.
You run your tongue over your teeth. “No, I mean, I really had to sell the idea.”
“Of you joining the suicide mission.” Him and his stupid logical inquiry. You can only give him a sickly sort of nod, and trust that he won’t dig any further into it. After all, if it was as easy as it was for Yao, Ilyukhina, and DuBois to give themselves up for the cause, it’s not out of the realm of possibility for there to be someone else like them. Grace seems to accept this easily. “And, you and I…?”
Would’ve been great together, given time. And now there is time. Instead, you admit a measly: “We knew each other, yeah.”
“And you know about me. Who I am,” he affirms. Grace isn’t quite sure how to ask you how you know him, what you were to each other—friends, coworkers, or otherwise.
You shoot for as-vague-as-possible: “I mean, as much as you do. We only knew each other for a very short amount of time.” He looks unsatisfied by your answer, but doesn’t seem to prod any further. To him, you appear just as clueless an agent as he is. Guiltily, you hope that he’ll stay that way until you can figure out how to tell him anything different.
—
You decide to put on a puppet show, laying supine in the little pod with little figurines in your hand. Rocky’s doing: he’s made one little miniature of you and one little miniature of Grace. In front of your face, you dance them along with one another, two geometrical forms moving in unison but unable to join together. You can hear Rocky rolling into the room far before he even enters the room, the bulkiness of his xenonite shell knocking across the ground of the hall. When you tilt your head to look out at him, he’s already well jutting into your sleeping pods.
He asks, “Why hide while Grace working, question?” Right about now, Grace should be doing a couple of extra checks on the Taumoeba, and making sure that the Hail Mary’s trajectory towards Rocky’s ship is still on-point. Which means he’s busy. And you can escape for a generous forty-five minutes before he needs a spare hand.
You have to lock the miniatures away in your closed palm, and slide them just beneath the pillow. You scoff: “I’m not hiding. Where’d you get that from?” You click a button off the side of the pod, letting it extend the bed outwards; as you get up, legs dangling off the side, you can see Rocky roll back slightly.
He insists: “In bed. Make little noise in corner of ship.” It’s all very matter-of-fact.
“I just needed to take a breather,” you correct. In truth, you are very patently hiding from Grace. It’s a terrible habit now that you know that Grace is a pin drop away from recalling who you are.
Rocky pushes again, “Need meaning of word.”
“Breather, like… there’s a lot happening, and I need to rest for a second and think.” It’s the most clean-cut definition you can think up for Rocky. Though, it omits the obvious: you’re terrified to tell Grace and are perpetually delaying the inevitable.
“Think what, question?” As flatly as his programmed voice seems to ring out, Rocky shows a genuine sort of care that you’d find rare among most humans. You can’t exactly reject his attempts. They’re nothing but good-willed.
It takes you another minute or so of silent deliberation before you can figure out how to seek Rocky’s help without giving away too much. Finally, you offer up a decent, analogous-enough hypothetical: “If your mate—if Adrien had come up with you, left Erid, would you be angry with them?”
Disjointed and with much urgency, he responds: “Not angry. Sad. Very sad. Adrien stay on Erid. Stay home. Journey is too high risk.” His response can only send you into a further state of despondency. Rocky and Grace are more alike than either of them would like to admit. Rocky only affirms what you already expect of his response, and by extension, of Grace’s. He must be able to gauge your panicked reaction in the laborious sound of your breathing and the well-engrained frown adorning your face. “Are you sad, question? Thinking of mate.”
“Something like that.” You smile faintly. The thought of calling Grace that—given your absolute lack of time together—amuses you. Still, it’s an endearing thought. You wonder if he’d be as entertained by it as you are.
“Not familiar with Earth mating traditions,” Rocky reminds you. “If talk with Grace, maybe feel better, question?” Rocky has absolutely no clue.
—
Out of the three of you, you happen to have the least painful injuries after Tau Ceti-E—a couple of tender bruises on your back, and a sprained ankle. As you’re still very much in love with Grace, it feels absolutely excruciating to act casually around him. Him flinging himself out of the ship for the bacteria collector was enough to send you into a panic. And, now that everyone’s safe enough—injuries aside—you fall back into an easy enough routine.
And, it’s not as if he’s a blank slate. He’s still plenty identical to how he was when you first met—intelligent, sometimes klutzy, and prone to curiosity. You flock to him like you did then, on the carrier ship. There’s some instances, you think, that Grace must feel it, too—despite how much he strays away from you.
Like now, as you insist on cleaning his wounds up. Though it’s an easy enough job for the robotic aide, both you and Grace have unanimously agreed to let the system cool down after the obvious intensities of your near crash. So, you’re in the lab, Grace is seated on one of the tall stools, whining as you peel off the old patch off his cheek. “Ow. Ow. Ow.”
“This isn’t going to go any faster with you squirming like that,” you say, discarding the papery adhesive on the counter. The gash on Grace doesn’t look terrible, just scabby around the edges. You take up supplies from the open medical kit on the counter beside you both. Your hand grips his chin as you drag an antiseptic-saturated cotton swab across his cheek. His scruff is rough against your fingertips. “Just stay still and let me disinfect it. You’re worse than a kid.”
“You know, I don’t think you’re wrong,” he responds with gritted teeth. You can tell he’s trying, out of embarrassment, to hold in any further disgruntled noises. “Have you been icing your ankle?”
“As much as I can,” you mumble. You can tell that he’s trying to distract himself, hands gripping the seat of the stool.
Grace hums, “Well, if you need to be off your feet for the next couple of days, I’m pretty sure Mary isn’t going to get any worse.”
You lift the swab off his cheek a moment. “Are you asking me to take a break, or are you telling me to?”
“Whatever you’ll agree to more easily?” Grace grins softly. His insistence is so familiar that you almost forget that the half of him that knows you is missing.
You return the swab back against his wound, and he flinches less intensely than before. Softly, you tell Grace, “I’ll think about being off my feet. Don’t want Rocky waking up to a dumpster fire of a ship—you know how he hates messes.”
It isn’t until the new bandage is on his cheekbone that the two of you, at once, recognize the sort of position you’re in. Grace with his hands grasped tightly around either side of your waist, and you wedged in between his parted legs. You must have failed to notice, and clearly he hadn’t either. You swallow soft, face hot. You can see Grace’s eyes flash down to your lips and back up.
“Thanks,” he coughs out, red-faced, “I better go check on Rock now.” As soon as his glasses are shoved back onto his face, Grace dismisses himself with a beeline towards Rocky. You make sure to step aside, making sure to toss the used supplies into the nearest waste bin, before closing up the kit and tossing it back into its usual drawer. Now, the ship feels exceptionally tiny. You can see Grace press his face closer to the xenonite glass of Rocky’s container. His glasses are fogging up, and you can see through the glass that he’s trying his best not to glance up at your direction.
—
While Grace is occupied with taking care of Rocky, you’ve dedicated yourself to restoring the Hail Mary to her prior state. The cleaning is a decent distraction, and gives you a good chance to survey the ship’s inventory. The cockpit has the worst of it, manuals scattered and screens cracked from the interior pressure. You try your best to order everything back into place.
There's a whiteboard discarded in the flight deck lodged behind the chairs, bent in the middle but still largely recoverable. You pick it up gently, as if recovering some kind of ancient artifact. There’s a couple of phrases at a time scribbled neatly in columns: San Francisco? Good with cilantro. I’m a teacher. You can’t imagine what it must be like to be him—bits and pieces of who he was before the launch, trying to sew themselves into something meaningful. Another column: Notebooks? Sweet coffee, no exceptions. Gorgeous.
There are a couple more identifiable things that sell the understanding that it’s all you. Hometown. The names of cafes and restaurants you liked to go to before the project started. That sells it: this side of the board is all about you—detailing in fragments all the time that you’d spent being together all that time on Project Hail Mary before the launch. How you’d like each other from the start over breakfasts in the carrier ship’s cafeteria. How you’d pass notes across the table during those five o’ clock committee meetings.
Open windows. How you’d kissed for that first time before dinner with the team, in your crammed bunk room. You’d had the windows propped open that night to let the open air and sea mist in; he remembered that. He remembered sentiments about you—but he still can’t quite place your name or your face. It’s you who’s clouding Grace’s brain, and he doesn’t even know it. He thinks you’re married. It’s an educated guess that he’s reiterated enough times to think it’s real.
—
It takes quite a bit of thinking over when you decide to confess. While Rocky shows Grace his ship, you’ve decided to stay back and make sure the Hail Mary is in top shape to get refueled. You come up with the courage while he’s gone, and it’s all plotted out thoroughly in your head:
Grace, I haven’t been honest with you. I need to tell you that I knew you more than I said that I did, before this. I need you to forgive me for what I’ve done, and know that it was the best possible choice I could’ve made—even if you might not agree. And anyway, we’re here now and we won’t be going back, so there’s nothing to be done but be together.
When Grace makes it back in, suit shedded, he doesn’t think twice to collapse onto the ground of the main hull. You find him like that, knees pulled up to his chest, heavy-lidded eyes swollen from crying. He must know now, somehow, how he got there. And, he must have a sneaking suspicion about how you got there, too. The need for your drawn-out confession has evaded the both of you.
There’s the chirps and ticks of the ship’s machinations, the low hum of the Hail Mary cutting through space, and there’s the sound of his muffled sniffling. Oh, Grace. You’re quite aware of the fact that he can see the soles of your shoes right next to his. Your voice falls lower than a whisper: “Are you upset with me?”
“It’s you. Of course not,” Grace grumbles. You let out a little bit of a sigh—seating yourself onto the ground beside him. He hangs his head, “We’re so not married.”
“In your head, I guess we were.”
“That’s so embarrassing,” Grace groans, palm coming up to cover his face. You have to nudge his shoulder with your own. Not that embarrassing, you want to say—but all too shy to do it aloud. He murmurs, “Why did you do it?”
“It was this or slow death. Living with the fact that I wouldn’t ever see you again.” This is a confession in and of itself—admitting to Grace that you cared about him crazily enough for you to leave the planet. “I convinced Stratt before she sent you up, made sure you wouldn’t find out about it. I knew you wouldn’t want me to do it, and I knew you didn’t have a choice.”
“You knew she was going to send me, and you volunteered yourself up to keep me company,” he repeats back to you. He nods with a sturdy, rasped out “huh.” It’s clear that he’s still trying to settle with the fact that he’s known you this whole time—more than known. Grace rubs his fingers gingerly against his forehead.
“Sure you’re not mad?”
To that, he eagerly shakes his head. “I should be. Selfishly, I’m kind of stoked. I mean, I get you all to myself. That’s, like, the dream. I win.” Grace throws a weak, celebratory fist into the air. You have to stifle a giggle. Yes, this is the Grace you knew. “Obviously,” he says, “you get the short end of the stick.”
“Don’t,” you tell him, index finger pointed. “I’m one-hundred percent where I want to be. It’s you and me, Dr. Grace.”
“You and me,” he repeats. He makes a quick swipe at your hand, lips brushing over your knuckles in a quick kiss. Grace makes sure to hold your hand hostage in his own, and the two of you sit there a while, your head leaning on his shoulder. There isn’t a single bit of assurance that the two of you will be making it back to Earth in due time, and still, you don’t feel much of a need to rush.
Summary: the Avengers have a night out in a club and your husband gets a little drunk
A/N: reader has curly hair in this, also I myself don't have curly hair so if anything is inacurate and makes no sense just tell me and I'll fix it. Thank you and enjoy <3
A/N no. 2: I got idea for this fic after a convo with my bestie @lokislovingvalkyrie, so... here honey, enjoy
Loud pop music was booming from nearby speakers. People were going crazy on the dance floor. Colourful lights above your heads were flickering and changing hues. All this loud chaos was happening around you while you were calmly sitting at the bar drinking something sweet and nonalcoholic. Probably virgin mojito. You don't remember. Only thing you keep on your mind is how to get yourself and your godly husband home as fast as possible.
You being the introvert of the group never really enjoyed these nights out. You did have fun, yes, but only for a short time and it drained your energy quickly.
Tonight you really felt like not going, but Tony insisted on invitimg everybody, even Loki, so you had to oblige. 'Only until Anthony gets wasted and then we'll slip out, I promise darling,' Loki told you while you were getting ready.
As far as you know Tony has gotten completely sloshed after first hour of being here, and yet you still sat on your chair 1 and a half hour later, with Loki nowhere to be seen. After taking another gulp of your sweet liquid you started to twist your wedding ring on your finger to calm down. This was a big place, surely he is looking for you and can't find you among all these people.
As if on cue you felt a familiar arm wrap around your torso pulling you towards an equally familiar body. Loki was grinning from ear to ear proudly while he turned around to show you off to bunch of strangers.
"I found her! My darling! My sweet, sweet love. Look at 'er," he cupped your face with his free hand, "isn't she just the cutest? The adorablebest? The bestest human to walk the Midgardian, well, Midgard?" you knew what the heavy tongue and poor grammar meant. He was drunk. And not just tipsy, a full on drunk.
Loki however didn't care as he squeezed you to his side even more and said loudly. "This person right here! You can all see her right? Good. This! This is my wife. My lovely wifie," he buried his face in the crook of your neck and mumbled how he loved you and how you are the best wife of all the wives who ever existed.
You stroked his back. "Yes Loki, I'm your wife. You're my husband. And we need to get you home," you pulled his face from your neck and gently pulled him towards the exist.
"But da'ling, I haven't shown you to the dj yet! His sad little single heart needs to know how gorgeous my wife is!" he pouted and rambled how he needs to show the whole world the person who chose to mary him, out of their own will.
"Next time Lo," you kiss his nose, "I promise."
He lights up like a christmas tree and lets you guide him out of the bar.
You get home by taxi and try to keep Loki from falling asleep on you on your way to the Tower. When you finally get to your shared floor the only thing on your mind is getting him and yourself out of these tight, uncomfortable, formal clothes and cuddling up in your giant soft bed.
First you unzip your dress and change into your favourite sweatpants and one of Loki's t-shirts all while Loki just sits on your bed admires you.
"What?" you giggle when you notice him staring at you.
"Nothin'. Just...you. I think you're beautiful," he smiled almost dreamily at you and propped up his chin on his hands.
"Well," you walk between his spread legs and caress his hair, "you're not so bad yourself. But do you know what would make you even more beautiful? Changing out of this fancy suit to something soft and more cuddle-worthy."
He hugged you and nuzzled his face into your t-shirt. "But that would mean not having physical contact with you," he whined.
"Not if I help you," you pulled away from his embrace and kneeled down to his eye level, hands already working on his dress shirt buttons. Loki's hands are wondering around your back when you feel him pull one of your locks, stretching it for a second, then releasing it. He chuckled.
"What's so funny?" you smiled up at your adorable husband and pulled his black dress shirt down revealimg his chest.
"Nothing, nothing," he giggled. "I love your hair."
You chuckled. "Thank you, I grew it myself," you took him by his bare arms and made him stand up. When you reached for his belt he wrapped his hand around your wrists. "I can do this myself," he said and layed his head on your shoulder for support.
You nodded and let him fight with the belt buckle while you ran your hands through his wavy hair. After unfastening his belt and kicking down his pants he just stood there in his black boxers and pants around his ankles hugging you. It felt nice, being this domesticated. You never thought a god from space would ever be this casual with someone.
You raked your hand up and down his back and he purred. "This feels nice," you mumbled into his neck.
"Mhm, it would feel better if we were layed tho," he whispered back.
You wanted to ask what he meant when you felt him tighten his grip on you and falling backwards bouncing off of your shared bed.
"You are an idiot sometimes," you laughed when you sat up to take a better look at him.
"Well yes, but I am your idiot," he boobed your nose, "never forget that," he tapped his wedding band on his finger.
You smiled and touched your own ring. "Let's cuddle your idiotic highness," you pulled him up towards the pillows.
"Excelent idea my dear."
Once both of you were under the covers, your head on his chest and his arms around on your back, you sighed contently. Finally you can recharged the battery you drained on that party.
You closed your eyes and relaxed. But then, after few minutes, you felt Loki pull your hair again. He pulled, stretched as far as he could without hurting you, and released and chuckled when it bounced back. "Hehe, boink," he whispered.
You bit your lip to stop the laughter that was fighting its way out of your throat. As you expected, he took another curl between his fingers and bounced it again while saying 'boink'. He did this few more times until you couldn't anymore and bursted out laughing.
Loki smoothed out your hair and kissed the top of your head. "Sorry," he whispered into your hair.
"No, no, it's okay," you laughed and wiped the tear that leaked from your eye.
Loki twirled few curles around his finger. "You have boinky hair my dear," he chuckled and again made the curl stretch and bounce back, "boink."
Another laugh errupted from you. "But you have curly hair as well," you pointed out inbetween your chuckles.
"True, but yours is better. D'you know why?"
You shook your head.
"Because," he cupped your cheeks, "it's attached to this head, and" he kissed your forhead, "I," kiss between your eyebrows, "love," kiss on the tip of your nose, "the owner," kiss on the chin, "of this head."
You hummed. "You missed."
"Oh, apologies," he pecked your cheek lightly.
"Missed again."
Kiss on the other cheek.
"And again," you chuckled.
"Hmm, maybe third time I won't miss," he muttered and finally placed his lips on your own. Even drunk Loki was a damn good kisser.
After you separated you stared lovingly into his eyes. Loki's thumbs were caressing your cheeks. After a while exhaustion took over both of you and you nuzzled his chest again and wished him good night.
Before you fell asleep you felt him pull on the tiniest piece of hair and for the last time whisper 'boink'.
Loki is the first person you look for when you finally step off the Quinjet. You’re aching and so exhausted that your limbs feel leaden, but both things become so utterly insignificant compared to reuniting with the love of your life.
It doesn’t take you long to find him - leaning back against the frosted glass doors that lead to the Landing Bay, he emits an air of complete indifference to the scene around him, but, unfortunately for him, you can read him better than your favourite book. It takes less than a minute to register the tense set of his jaw and the faint dark circles marring his pale skin, along with the way his arms are wrapped protectively around his torso.
He’s barely holding it together.
All around you, the landing pad is a happy buzz of relieved conversation as the team reunites - something each one of you feared might never happen when the Quinjet suddenly went off the radar for four days - but it isn’t time to add your own voice to the stories. Not yet.
Right now, all that matters is comforting the man who looks like his world has fallen apart.
It’s a feeling you’re all too familiar with. The mission had been five long weeks deep in Malaysia - five weeks of yearning for Loki in a way you didn’t know was possible. You ached for the feel of his body wrapped around yours as you slept, ached for his soothing embrace when you came down with some strange bug on the third day, ached for his gentle kiss when the fear of failure overwhelmed you. You had counted down the days until the mission was over, craving Loki in the way a drowning man craves air.
Then the Quinjet had gone rogue on the return to New York, and your blood had turned to ice when faced with the very real possibility that you might never see Loki again.
Blinking back tears you toss your bag carelessly to the ground, caring little as to whether you see the contents again, and weave your way easily across the landing pad to where Loki is still standing. His eyes never leave you and he gives little away, but when you finally reach him it’s impossible to miss the slight quiver of his lower lip.
“Hey,” you say as casually as you can. “What was it you said before I left? Something about making sure the mission wasn’t boring without you?”
It’s a weak tease, bad enough that you even cringe a little, but it’s the best your exhausted brain can come up with. After four long days of fearing the very worst, you’re barely able to comprehend that the love of your life really is standing right in front of you - it’s not the cruel taunt of a tortured mind nor a delusional hallucination. Loki is right there gazing at you like you hung the moon, like you’re the answer to every prayer his lips have ever uttered. You can feel your heart start to thunder wildly in your chest, almost as though it recognises that it’s finally being reunited with its other half, and every last inch of you aches to gather him into your arms.
But, before you can even move, Loki is already gathering you into his. “Beloved girl,” he murmurs, burying his face into your hair while curling a large hand around the back of your head.
The scent of him wraps around you like a blanket - amber and ginger and the clean smell of his soap - and your body sags gratefully into his familiar touch. You’re home. You’re finally home. “I’m ok. I’m ok, love,” you say, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and running a soothing hand along the length of his back, just as eager to comfort him.
Loki’s answer is to hold you tighter, breaking your heart as he does. He’s lost so much already, more than most people would deem fair, and for four terrible days, he thought he had lost you too. You continue to stroke his back, both a reassurance and a comfort, giving him all the time he needs. His heart beats steadily against yours, coaxing you further into his embrace, and he responds with a firm press of his lips to your hair.
“Do you have any idea what you put me through?” His deep voice rumbles in your ear. He means it as a tease, you know that - an attempt to mask the turmoil of the past few days, but the slight tremor in his voice betrays his fear.
You pull back just enough to see his face and those beautiful green eyes that are shining with tears. “I told Tony to take a left,” you reply, giving him a tiny smile. The quirk of his lips tells you the panic is receding, but slowly. “I’m never going to leave you, Loki, not by choice. I promise,” you assure him, taking his face in your hands.
He leans into your touch, eyes briefly fluttering closed when you stroke his cheeks. “Darling girl,” he says quietly, pulling you back against his chest. “I swear to you now, should I ever lose you again, I will look for you until the stars fall out of the sky. There is no crevice of the universe I will leave unturned until I find you again.”
He presses his lips firmly to the crown of your head - all warm and soft and sweet - and you say a silent prayer of thanks to whatever powers brought you back.
that's my first time making a request , i wanted to ask if you can write a loki x virgin!reader oneshot or Headcanons, but the reader is slightly jealous and insecure because Loki already had many people in bed and they don't?
Absolutely I can, thank you for reading and requesting!
I’ll Take Care of It
Loki Laufeyson x virgin!f!Reader
Warnings: 18+ content; minors DNI, virginity loss, slight praise kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, creampie
Laughter echoed through the massive penthouse lounge, barely audible over the booming music forcing its way through the locked door. The noise grated on your already frazzled nerves as you stared at your own defeated face in the bathroom mirror.
Huffing a sigh, you gathered the length of your hair in one hand and lifted it from the back of your neck in an attempt to grant yourself an ounce of relief from the stifling evening as you replayed the conversation in your mind once again.
"You don't actually expect me to believe that, right?" Tony scoffed into his whiskey.
"No, no, it is true! My brother was quite popular with the ladies and the gentlemen before his banishment to Midgard!" Thor replied, a wide smile on his face as he clapped Loki firmly on the shoulder.
The dark-haired prince crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back into the rich leather of the sofa and rolling his eyes as your teammates pelted him with questions.
Extremely personal questions.
You couldn't help the color that rose to your cheeks as your lover humored them. While he didn't divulge too much detail, your mind had quickly begun to race, bombarding you with images of him with past flings.
You had never considered yourself a jealous person by any means, but the idea of Loki with other people while you hadn't so much as seen each other naked made your stomach twist in an ugly display of insecurity.
You stared down at the glass of champagne in your hand, the golden bubbles now seeming more mocking than celebratory.
You didn't know why it was bothering you so deeply; should have known.
He was tall and handsome and a prince. Of course he would be more... experienced. Yet you couldn't help the embarrassment you felt so deeply toward your own lack of intimate encounters.
Sure, there had been one or two instances of drunken make out sessions and that one time with the cute bar tender but nothing had really developed beyond that. Between grad school and your work with Stark Industries, there just hadn't but much time for romance in your life. Until you met Loki.
"You're going to eat that poor girl alive, aren't you?" Tony asked flatly before standing to refill his glass at the bar.
Your grip on the glass's stem tightened involuntarily as your heart leapt into your throat.
What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
You knocked back the rest of your drink before you could shatter the crystal and set the glass on the coffee table, quickly making a beeline for the restroom you knew resided just down the hall.
You let your hair fall back down around your shoulders and adjusted the straps of your overly-expensive dress.
You weren't sure why Tony's comment had gotten under skin.
You were a successful woman with a career that any man in a C suite would kill for, for fuck's sake. Who cared if you were still a virgin in your late twenties?
But the truth was that you cared.
You didn't necessarily regret spending your young adult life in lecture halls and internships; it would be stupid to regret the hard work that had allowed you to live the life of your dreams.
But maybe your younger self could have stood to have more fun before beginning your career.
Realizing you had been hiding in the bathroom for far too long, you mustered up your remaining energy to plaster a smile you hoped was convincing enough and reached for the doorknob.
Your hopes of going unnoticed were dashed as your boyfriend's looming figure appeared next to the doorframe, his hands tucked into the pockets of his immaculately tailored black suit. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sight of him, a sharp gasp escaping your chest.
"Loki! You scared the shit out of me!" you snapped, lightly slapping his bicep.
He smiled softly and gently took your hand, bringing it up to his lips for a soft kiss.
"Forgive me, my love. You were gone for quite some time."
Your heart began to melt in your chest at the soft tone of his voice and the genuine concern in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, I just needed a minute to... to myself."
You gave his hand a slight squeeze, hoping he wouldn't ask too many questions about your sudden departure from the conversation.
But he knows you. So of course he does.
"Is everything alright?" he asked quietly, his eyes silently searching yours for a hint as to what might have bothered you enough to make you disappear.
"Yeah, I'm just tired is all..." you trailed off, too embarrassed to voice what had actually upset you.
He took your hand in his once more and placed it on the crook of his elbow as he began to lead you down the hall. You started to protest, completely opposed to the prospect of rejoining the party, your mood thoroughly ruined.
"Just walk with me," he asked delicately, his voice oddly reassuring. After a moment of silent deliberation, you nodded, straitening your spine in resolve. You followed as he led you through the lounge and onto the terrace, ignoring the group's calls for the two of you to returned to the party.
The cool air and comforting quiet of the night around you was a relief as you stood beside him and looked out at the bustling city sprawled out below. You leaned forward, resting your forearms on the cold metal and closing your eyes as you listened to the faint sounds of cars honking and people shouting.
Loki stood silently beside you, his gaze drifting occasionally from the city lights to the curve of your figure, his thoughts beginning to wander slightly.
When he initially fell for you, he was scared shitless.
There he was, banished from his home, trapped on an unfamiliar planet surrounded by people who hated him, and the most unsure of himself he had ever been in his life.
And you were so kind to him.
You never mentioned his past. No backhanded comments ever left your lips. You didn't find excuses to leave whatever room he was in. You were so smart and beautiful and he quickly found himself looking forward to his next interaction with you. His heart began to race in your presence.
So he paid attention.
To what you were reading, what you liked to eat, where you enjoyed spending your time. He familiarized himself with Midgardian courting practices, often (to his own chagrin) asking his brother about his experiences. From what he had gathered, men who were overly eager to jump into bed were viewed as unfit partners.
So he waited for you.
He didn't mind; he'd wait as long as he needed to.
Loki was pulled from his reverie when he realized you were shivering.
He shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over your shoulders before joining you at the railing. You smiled up at him, pulling his jacket tighter around yourself and he could've sworn his heart stopped then and there.
"Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?" he finally asked before wrapping an arm around your waist. You let a long sigh escape through your nose, debating how embarrassing it would be to admit you were still a virgin.
"You have to promise me you won't laugh."
"I promise."
You looked down at your clasped hands resting on the railing, suddenly finding the paint peeling off the metal extremely interesting.
"I'm still... I've never-" you cut yourself off and dropped your head into your hands, your face flushing anew.
"Are you alright, darling?"
"I'm a virgin."
There. It was out in the open.
The deafening silence that followed was enough to bring tears to your eyes, the shame overwhelming.
"Forget it. I never should have brought it up. I should've known this was-" your self-deprecating words were abruptly cut off by his lips on yours, his arms crushing you against his chest in a warm embrace. His hands slid up the length of your body before coming to cup your face and hold you in place as he broke the kiss.
"Why would that matter to me?" he asked, his voice just above a whisper.
"I don't know I just... I'm too old and I have no idea what I'm doing and you have so much experience-"
"Beloved, did you just call me a whore?" he cut you off again, a mischievous smirk on his lips.
"No! It's just that-"
"I'm just trying to get a rise out of you, darling," he chuckled, pressing another quick kiss to your lips.
"You're not... weirded out?" you asked, the confusion evident on your face.
"Why would I be?"
"Don't you think that I'm bit old to be a virgin or something?"
"What's a couple of decades when you live for five thousand years, give or take?"
Alright, that was a good point.
"Okay, well, how old were you when you lost your virginity?"
"Seventeen."
You hid your face in your hands once more, groaning in frustration as any relief you felt from his previous comments completely evaporated.
He chuckled softly, his arms snaking around your waist once more to pull you back against his chest. You couldn't help but melt into him, letting your head fall back to rest against his shoulder. The pair of you stayed in the embrace for a few minutes, letting the shared heat of your bodies keep you warm as the party continued on inside.
You couldn't help but shiver as he dropped his mouth to the shell of your ear, his slight stubble brushing deliciously against your skin.
"You know, darling, if you're this concerned about it, I could take care of it for you."
You blushed for umpteenth time that night, your heart lurching at the proposition as heat began to pool low in your stomach. You could feel yourself becoming light headed as his hands slowly traced the curve of your waist.
"What do you mean?"
You could practically feel the smirk forming on his lips as your vision was overtaken by a glow of green light. Your grip on his forearms tightened as the image of your bedroom came into view, two figures materializing on the twisted nest of sheets.
Squinting against the light, you could just make out a head of long, dark hair tucked between a pair of legs, a single hand trailing down to thread its fingers through the black tresses. Your cheeks instantly flushed as you realized what he was showing you, shifting your thighs together in an attempt to gain some semblance of relief.
"Have I made my intentions clear enough, darling?" came his raspy reply, his voice low and tempting against the column of your neck. Goosebumps erupted across your exposed skin, the evening air suddenly both too chilly and too stifling.
"I... suppose I could be convinced," you answered coyly.
Loki's hands drifted down to your hips, squeezing slightly.
"I need to hear you say yes, beloved."
Your knees damn near buckled at the silky tone of his voice in your ear, the heat in your lower abdomen quickly becoming unbearable.
"Yes."
You could practically feel the smirk on his lips, your stomach flipping as his grip tightened slightly, his fingers digging into your hips. Another flash of green light and you were standing in your bedroom, the light dimmed and curtains drawn against the city lights.
Candles burned on your nightstands and dresser, giving the space a dreamy atmosphere. Your sheets had been replaced with silky forest green ones, a fluffy white duvet tucked over them. Your heart melted at the thought he had put into it.
You were pulled from your reverie by the sensation of his lips on your shoulder. Letting your head fall back to rest on his chest, you closed your eyes and let yourself relax against him. His fingertips trailed slowly up your arm, sending a shiver down your spine as he reached the strap of your dress.
Butterflies raged in your stomach as pulled away slightly to find the zipper and slowly pulling it down the length of your spine. Gently taking your hand in his, he spun you to face him as the fabric pooled at your feet, revealing the emerald lace beneath.
His raked over your body as his hands settled on your hips, tugging you closer.
"You little minx," he mumbled, his voice low and raspy.
"Lack of experience doesn't mean lack of style," you replied with a confidence you didn't quite feel.
"Lucky for you, darling, I lack neither."
"Show me."
You didn't have to tell him twice.
His lips found yours in an instant, his hands pressing your body firmly against his. You let him take the reins, basking in the sensation of his warmth. His tongue traced the length of your bottom lip, silently asking for entrance. You grant it, nearly sighing as his tongue gently caressed the roof of your mouth.
As his hands slide up the exposed skin of your waist, a stark reminder of the discrepancy between your two states of dress. Intent on remedying that, you slid your hands slowly up his stomach and onto his chest before finding the knot of his tie and working it loose. You could feel him smile into your lips as he realized what you wanted.
Releasing you from his grip, he quickly undid the tie and let it drop to the floor before going to work on the buttons of his shirt without breaking your kiss. You traced your hands over the smooth skin of his chest, sliding them over his shoulders and pushing the fabric down his arms to join his tie on the carpet.
Loki cupped your face in his hands, threading his fingers through your hair as he tugged your bottom lip between his teeth. A soft moan escaped your throat, desperation beginning to settle into your core. You began fumbling with his belt, suddenly anxious to have him stripped down to nothing. He interrupted your efforts, intertwining his fingers with your own and flashing you a devastating smile when you whined out loud.
"Patience, darling," he teased.
"Come on, Loki..."
"We'll get there, my love. But first," he leaned closer, his lips just brushing your ear, "I want to watch you come undone."
Your entire body flushed at his words, the room suddenly significantly warmer than it was even five minutes earlier. He captured your lips once again, wrapping his arms firmly around your waist. Your arms found their way around his neck, tugging his head down for easier access. Pressing your back against the solid wood of your bedroom door, he titled your chin to the side and pressed hot, open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck.
Your back arched involuntarily as he reached your collarbone, your fingers digging into the skin of his back. His hands slid down to your thighs, swiftly tugging your legs up to wrap around his hips before pressing himself against your core, the feeling of his hard length pulling a whimper from your lips.
He slid one hand from your thigh over the curve of your ass and up your back to unclip your bra in one smooth motion. Your cheeks burned as the lace cups began to dip below the swell of your breasts, your nipples stiffening into peaks as they were revealed to the open air. Unaccustomed to being so exposed, you tried to cover yourself from view. He gently took your wrists in his hands, tenderly prying your hands away from your chest.
"Don't hide from me," he pleaded, voice barely above a whisper.
Your heart leapt in your chest as he brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to its back as his green eyes locked onto your own.
"I've just never..." you cut yourself off, suddenly aware of how ridiculous you must have sounded.
"I know, darling. Just let me worship you."
You nodded, deciding to be brave and allowing him to pin your hands against the surface of the door. Your pulse quickened at the sensation of his skin brushing against your nipples, feeling slightly light headed as his lips dropped to your neck once again, sucking the skin harshly before soothing it with his tongue.
Your lips fell open as he trailed kisses down your chest, taking both your wrists into one hand and holding them above your head as the other delicately traced the bottom curve of your left breast. He dragged the tip of his tongue around the outer edge of your right nipple, your cunt soaking the fabric of your lingerie.
He continued to tease you for a few seconds longer before sucking the hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a sharp gasp from you. He rolled the sensitive flesh between his teeth, his tongue flicking over the tip. Your fell back against the door, wrists straining against his firm grip. His other hand cupped your left breast, his fingers gently pinching the nipple. You bucked your hips against him, desperate for a shred of friction on your drenched core.
"So sensitive for me, aren't you?" he chuckled darkly, his mouth releasing your nipple with a lewd pop. "Look at you... so beautiful."
"Loki... I need you," you whined. You attempted to pull your wrists free from his grip to no avail.
"You'll have me, my love."
Finally releasing your hands, he gripped your ass firmly and walked you to the edge of the bed. He settled onto the duvet, laying back with your legs straddling his hips. Your core clenched at the sight of him beneath you, his hair slightly mussed and his lean torso fully bare. His eyes dropped to your tits before flicking back up to meet yours, his arousal obvious through the fabric of his dress pants.
Sliding your hands up his chest, you slowly lowered your body over his, the friction of his skin on yours making your head swim. He slid one hand behind your head, pulling your lips down to his. His other hand came to rest on your ass, toying with the waistband of your panties. His hips bucked up slightly, the motion causing a sinful brush of friction against your cunt.
Loki hooked two fingers into your waistband in an attempt to pull them down your hips before you snatched his hand away, pressing it down against the sheets.
“You’re still overdressed,” you pointed out, your eyes flicking down to the offending pants.
“Are you going to remedy that, my lady?”
You bit back a satisfied smirk before sliding your hands to his belt, making quick work of the buckle before undoing the button. You took the zipper between your teeth, holding his gaze pointedly as you pulled it down. He allowed you to press a few precious kisses to the skin of his hips as he lifted them so you could pull his slack down and let them drop to the floor.
Your mouth watered at the outline of his hardened cock straining against his briefs. You were just about to free him from the oppressive fabric when he stopped you, pulling you back up to press a soft kiss to your pouted lips.
“Another time. Tonight is about you.”
You nodded, too horny to argue with him on this. You pulled you into a deep kiss before shifting his weight to roll you onto your back, your legs parting to accommodate him. His tongue invaded your mouth once again as he dragged his hips against yours, grinding his cock against your throbbing pussy.
You arched up against him, threading your fingers through his dark hair. He slid a hand down your stomach and underneath the waistband of your lace bottoms. His fingers traced the length of your soaked lips before making slow, steady circles around your sensitive clit. You moaned lewdly into his mouth, your legs parting further to give him more room.
“Already so wet for me,” he mumbled against your lips. “Can’t wait to stretch you out.”
You nodded frantically at the prospect, your cunt flooding anew at the low chuckle that rumbled in his chest. He sucked the delicate skin of your neck as his fingers traced your entrance, teasing you.
“Do you want my fingers inside you?” he asked, his teeth grazing your ear.
“Yes,” you whimpered pathetically, bucking your hips up into his hand.
“Yes what, darling?”
“Yes, please.”
“That’s a good girl,” he said smugly.
He slipped two fingers inside, curling them against your walls and circling your clit with his thumb. Your back arched off the mattress, your pussy clenching around his digits. Lifting your hands above your head, you gripped the sheets beneath you, desperate for a way to ground yourself. You were vaguely aware of Loki tugging your panties down your legs, exposing your dripping cunt. You covered your face with your hands, suddenly embarrassed at the prospect of being fully naked in front of him.
Parting your thighs further, he trailed kisses across the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He pulled this thumb away from your clit, causing you to groan at the loss of contact.
“Look at me,” he demanded quietly.
Dropping your hands from your face, you forced yourself to meet his gaze. His eyes bored into yours as his mouth dropped to your pussy, his tongue licking a fat stripe over your clit. Your mouth fell open at the sight, his long fingers still pumping in and out of your drenched hole. His wicked tongue flicked expertly over your clit, his fingertips brushing that special spot you could never quite reach yourself.
“Oh fuck, Loki!” you gasped, one hand shooting down to grip his hair once more.
He let you grind yourself up against his mouth as his tongue and fingers continued working you with ridiculous precision. The sound of his fingers sliding in and out of your cunt was crass, only adding to your heightened arousal. It didn’t take long for that familiar tension to begin building low in your abdomen, quickly becoming overpowering. His brought his free hand up to your tits, pinching one nipple between his fingers.
“Loki! Fuck, I’m gunna— ah! I’m gunna cum!”
He hummed against your clit, the vibrations of his voice enough to push you over the edge. You twisted one hand into the silk sheets, the other still pulling his hair at the root. High pitched moans fell from your lips, one after another, as you fucked yourself against his tongue, your pussy clenching desperately on his fingers. He gradually slowed his movements, riding you out with care you knew only he could provide.
You stared blankly up at the ceiling, still trying to catch your breath as he gently pulled away before crawling back up the length of your body. He held his still soaked fingers up to your lips.
“Suck.”
You did as you were told, already too fucked out to resist him. You curled your tongue around his digits, the slightly salty taste of your own slick invading your mouth. Pulling his hand away, he bent down to kiss you slowly. Deeply. Intentionally. He pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling on it gently. The heat in your belly was far from quenched. You pulled his body onto yours, desperate to feel him against you again.
“I need you. Now,” you demanded, still breathless.
“Then take me.”
You crushed your lips against his, gasping into his mouth as he rolled onto his back so your legs were straddling his thighs. He lifted his hips, finally granting you the opportunity to slide his briefs off, your core tightening as his erection sprang free. You paused, giving yourself a moment to look at him. Really look at him.
Your clit throbbed at the sight of his happy trail leading from his navel down to his cock. You took his thick shaft in your hand, the tip already glistening with precum. You had figured he was big but looking at him now, you weren’t sure if he would even fit.His hands came to rest on yours hips, rubbing comforting circling on your skin. The concern was evident on his face.
“Is everything alright, darling?”
“You’re just so… big.”
“Were you expecting anything less?” he asked smugly.
Your face flushed with embarrassment. “No! It’s just I—“
“I’m just teasing, my love.”
You bit your lip, eyeing his length nervously.
“Hey,” he said softly, “you are in complete control here. We can stop at any time. Just communicate with me, yeah?”
Your nerves settled at the comforting tone of his voice, your affection for him damn near overwhelming.
“I want this. I want you.”
He smiled at your declaration, pushing himself up slightly to kiss you softly. Lifting your hips, you gripped his erection, lining the swollen tip up with your entrance. Ever so slowly, you let yourself sink onto his length. You felt the stretch immediately, a sharp burn edged with dull pleasure as you took him inch by inch.
“You’re doing so well, darling,” came Loki’s calm reassurance.
Though he put on a facade of measured control, you could tell it was taking all his effort to remain stationary while your body adjusted to him. You nodded, planting your hands firmly on his chest to readjust your angle. He hissed through his teeth at the sudden movement, his grip on your hips tightening slightly. Your eyes shot up to his face, your core tightening at his pleasured expression.
You gave an experimental roll of your hips and your mouth fell open at the unexpected wave of pleasure. You kept going, quickly gaining confidence as the pain faded. Loki’s head fell back against the duvet, his hair a stark contrast as it splayed across the white cotton.
“Are you okay?” you asked, suddenly concerned you were doing something wrong.
“I’m fine, you’re just so… tight.”
You giggled, squeezing your walls around his length.
“Don’t do that,” he groaned.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m trying to last, beloved.”
“Hm. I thought a god would have the stamina to match.”
“Yes, well, between my banishment and exclusively courting you, I haven’t quite had the opportunity to maintain it.”
You laughed as he flipped your positions, his arms caging you beneath him. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him down and locked your lips with his. He rolled his hips into you, his thick cock dragging deliciously against your walls. You moaned into his mouth, your body melting against his.
Your nails dug into the muscles of his back as he continued to slowly rock into you, pulling out to the tip just to bottom out again. Your eyes rolled back into your head as he lifted your legs to hook them over his shoulders. He pressed one palm firmly against your lower stomach, the other slipping between your bodies to rub tight circles over your clit. Your back arched, stars popping behind your closed eyes.
“Oh, fuck,” you whined, his soft grunts spurring you on.
Your breath began to quicken, an intense wave of spine-tingling pleasure beginning to build deep inside you. It wasn’t long before you were panting, gripping the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself as your hips bucked in rhythm with his. The wet sound of his thrusts only pushed you closer to your climax.
“Deep breaths, darling, deep breaths,” Loki commanded, his usually pale cheeks flushed with color.
You did as he instructed, drawing air deep into your chest before letting it back out. Your body relaxed and the sensation seemed to intensify as you continued sucking deep breaths in through your nose. His fingers quickened their pace, rubbing in punishing circles as his strokes grew deeper and more desperate.
“Don’t stop! Please, Loki, don’t stop!” you moaned, feeling that telltale coil grow tighter and tighter in your stomach.
“Cum for me.”
His husky voice was all it took for your release to hit you, your body undulating with wave after wave of intense pleasure. You keened as your cunt squeezed around his thick cock, his own deep groans mixing with yours as hot ropes of him coated your walls. His thrusts slowed, cum leaking from where your bodies were still joined together.
He dropped your legs from his shoulders, wrapping them around his hips as he leaned down to kiss you. He gently brushed the stray hair from your face before tucking his face into the crook of your neck, the two of you remaining intertwined while your hearts slowed in time.
“How are you feeling?” he asked when he had caught his breath.
“I can’t feel my legs.”
He laughed, pressing one last kiss to your lips before gently pulling out. You nearly sighed at the loss of contact, suddenly feeling empty.
“I have towels in the bathroom if you-“ “I’ll take care of it,” he cut you off, a warm damp hand towel materializing in his hand.
You let him clean you up, twitching occasionally as he brushed over your still sensitive skin. With a snap of his fingers, you were dressed in a clean T-shirt and sweats, oversized just how you liked them. Another snap and he had produced a plate of snacks and a decanter of fresh water on your nightstand. Your lover pulled you back against his chest, pressing soft kisses onto the back of your neck.
“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice soft and warm. You turned to face him.
“What for?”
“Trusting me.” You couldn’t help but smile, grabbing his cheeks and kissing him slowly.
“There’s no one I’d rather be with.”
After picking through your snacks, you began to drift off in his arms, the calm silence and his warm presence lulling you to sleep.
“I love you,” Loki whispered, knowing you couldn’t hear him.
Maybe next time he will have worked up the courage to tell you to your face. But this was enough for him for now.
"Dumb conversations, we lose track of time. Have I told you lately, I’m grateful you’re mine?"
- Nothing; Bruno Major.
-> Pairing: Avenger!Loki x gender neutral!reader
-> CW: Loki is in the Avengers in this one!! Slightly different timeline: if Loki decided to stay on Earth w/Thor after the Battle of New York & become an Avenger (look… just go w it.) x gender neutral (they/them/yours/) reader!
-> TW: none!! Just tooth-rotting fluff, as reader chills out to cuddle w/ everyone's favourite God of Mischief. lots of unconditional love for one (1) Loki Laufeyson <3
W/C: 1424
╰┈➤ Lex's note: DEAR JAYNIEBLOSSOM, MY SWEET, SWEET READER... i am so sincerely sorry that you had to wait two months for this!! i'm so ashamed for making everyone wait/gen. written from this req by @jaynieblossom-or-rosieposie !! i hope i did him justice for you!! i hope we all enjoy some fluffy cuddles w/ our dearest Loki. as always, thanks for requesting & reading!! <3
“On your left!”
Like a knee-jerk reaction, Loki’s dagger was hurled, and Sam swore into the comm that crackled in the God’s ear as his metal wings made a screeching noise, grinding against the blade.
“Nice one, reindeer games. Forget what side you’re on?”
Stark’s grating, arrogant drawl made his dark eyebrows pinch together, his glacier eyes narrowing beneath his helmet as he grit out an apology. Be kind, he thought, they’re your team now.
Regrettably.
The others filled the comms with their voices as they gave Stark and Rogers their intel and their positions, and the dynamic team of Avengers managed to make the mission a no-casualties success, except for maybe Loki’s mood. Loki panted, sweat drenching his lower back, making his tunic cling to his abdomen more than usual. He thought about what you’d say if you saw the view, and he tried to let a kindling warmth stir in his core, only for it to feel like he had been doused with freezing cold water. The swirling voices of Stark’s childish arrogance, Sam’s disapproving looks, even Maximoff’s sympathetic smile as she tried to offer consolidation- ”You weren’t that bad! When I first started with the Avengers, I was clumsy and disoriented too. Just think of yourself like a baby deer learning to stand!”
It made him grit his teeth.
Stand? Why, he could do more than that. He was a Prince of Asgard, a King of Chaos, the God of Mischief for crying out loud.
Curtly, he dismissed the Scarlet Witch’s kind attempt to make him feel better, and Sam rolled his eyes while Tony assessed his wing, “Don’t get too pouty, prince. I’m sure big brother can help you learn the difference between teammate and target.” His mocking smirk made Loki want to ruin the pearly whites he mocked him with, when there was a warm caress around his wrist. A little thread bracelet of gold, black and green you had made him, with one in your own favourite colours to match. He had enchanted them, so a simple touch would be felt for the other bracelet wearer, and Loki immediately craved home.
You were cosy on the couch, in a hoodie that smelt like him, though he had made it clear he wouldn’t stoop so low to wear such mortal rags in public, but you were content with this. You had scrolled on your phone, watching cute compilation videos of little animals, and success stories, and family reunions. It had gotten you warm and teary eyed, but you had put your phone down as soon as the door to your room swung open, “Hey you… I was just thinking about- oh!”
His face was buried in your chest before you could properly process his non-verbal behaviours, and immediately you began to scratch his scalp tenderly, playing with his soft raven hair, “Mission didn’t go well?” A muffled grumble was your answer, before he shook his head against your chest. He wasn’t needy, looking at you with a wolfish smirk and hungry eyes, like he usually would, and your lips tilted down into a frown, “Why, my love?”
There was considerable silence, before you quirk your lips to the side in thought. You were ready to make silly guesses, but something in the air shifted, and you could tell this was serious.
“I don’t think I’m a good fit for the Avengers as a whole.” He started, sitting up suddenly, staring at the ground with his elbows on his knees. His hands were clasped together, slender fingers twisting at the jewellery to adorn his hands, “I don’t have any purpose. I go on these foolish, wasteful mundane missions and do nothing useful- my powers are fizzling out, all because I’m some washed up God now, though I still don’t do right on missions-”
“Hey!” You finally made a successful interjection, sitting up and pulling him into a hug, “Where did this come from, Loki? How could you say these things about yourself?” Your voice was soft, not to baby him or condescend, but to provide a safe place for him to be… vulnerable. As if he had caught on, he tried to look away with a mean scowl, though it was not directed at you as he answered, “It’s not easy to stick to the path of redemption with a creature like Tony Stark reminding you each moment of what atrocities you need to repent, and how much of a monster you are.”
Your face softened into a sad frown, and you hugged him tight again, kissing his temple, “You don’t really believe all that crap, right?”
“How couldn’t I? He makes such convincing points.” His sarcasm was unnecessary, but you knew better than to comment on it while he was like this. Instead, you gently coaxed him to lie with his head on your chest, the two of you sprawled comfortably on the couch with legs intertwined. You grabbed your phone to open it up to something, but before you did, you kissed his head again.
“You know you’re doing so good, right?” Your voice was the warm ray of sun he needed to defrost his sweeter mood, and he felt the foundations of his scowl begin to crack and melt already.
“Lies.” He grumbled, but your refusal was adamant,
“You are. I am so incredibly proud of you, Loki. And truly, if I thought there was… something wrong, if I thought you didn’t care at all about making up for what you’ve done, if I truly thought you were some low-life, irredeemable monster-”
“Okay, I think I get it-”
“Then I wouldn’t be with you! But I am, because I see how much this change of heart means to you. Every day, you do so well, even when you think the opposite, and it makes me feel so proud, so fulfilled to see you give yourself a chance.” You had cupped his face at this point, kissing his head, then the tip of his nose, then his lips in an affectionate peck. He returned for a sweeter kiss, before you pulled up a thread of something you had saved for your own bad days, and immediately he was intrigued.
“Animals?”
“Baby animals! Look! A little baby bunny, and a puppy, and ducks!” You cooed, your eyes pooling with adoration as you absorbed the contents of the tiny screen. Loki still thought you were one of the strangest mortals he had ever met, but that only reinforced his love for you as he watched you swipe and scroll through, before he scowled at the baby deer and extended a finger to personally remove it from his screen. You didn’t question it, letting him look around on your phone, until he saw little snakes with flower hates, wearing tiny scarves or jumpers, curled up in funny little spots.
“See? It’s you! My handsome little snake prince.” You hummed, kissing his head while his eyes were fixated on the screen, scrolling at his own pace.
“You know, I’d love you if you got turned into an animal by an evil witch.” You curled your lips in a thoughtful pout, which he met with his own in a gentle peck, before raising his eyebrows at you. “Oh?” He hummed half-distractedly, eyes drooping as your nails scraped against his scalp in the way he liked, right at the nape of his neck. You felt him sag more into your body, half-blanketing you, half-trapping you in the couch.
“MMhm! Whether it’s a snake, a puppy, even a worm- I’d love you no matter what form you entered my life in.”
“Thank you, darling… That is kind… Very kind.” His voice trailed off slowly as he cuddled into you, and you kept kissing his head whilst you told him sweet things. At one point, you had fallen asleep too, to which he poked an eye open lazily and murmured, “I’d love you if you were a worm too.”
He lay in your arms, his mind quiet despite the emotionally charged day, despite what he was thinking before he saw you. As he lay here, with your arms wrapped securely around him, hands tangled comfortably in his hair, he couldn’t help a small smile as he looked up at you with pure, wholesome adoration. As long as he had you, he was sure that he was doing good in the world.
Especially when he got to see you smile, or laugh, or do any other simple motion that could fuel his lifespan and fill him with strength.
╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: hopefully i return to a semi-consistent posting schedule!!
summary: when loki needed to be comforted he found a timeline where his longtime wife y/n was alive so he could be grounded in this time of need, craving for her touch.
word count: 1511
warnings: pregnant reader! i repeat, pregnant reader, different timeline, a country life, reader obvi not knowing loki is impersonating….himself?, hurt/comfort<3
as the TVA slowly came to its downfall, loki, mobius and their friends all found there was possibly no other way to do things.
loki has manipulated his powers of skipping through time over, and over and over and every single time they went just how they did the first. loki was failing to believe there was hope in anything that existed.
while he sat with his hands on his head and his elbows sitting up on the desk in front of him he stressed and turned and pulled his mind to try his hardest to think of things while he still had plenty of time to save everyone.
mobius happened to walk in as he saw loki with nothing but the look of stress and couldn’t help but try and interfere.
‘so…what’s going on? why the long face’ he mumbled while pulling out the chair to sit next to loki who looked over at him with a small smile.
‘nothing…just trying to somehow understand…make sense of this all? understand what to do and how to change it’ he admitted. placing his hands down onto the desk as mobuis watched him.
‘well…sometimes things can’t be changed? sometimes things don’t have a answer and are better left without one…’ mobius told him while he always seemed like he tried to convince himself of his words.
‘no but…there’s always a way. there always is, i know it—‘
‘why do you believe that so strongly?’
‘because she told me so—‘ loki stressed, his forehead forming their lines of stress.
‘who?’
‘y/—‘ just as he said her name and thought of her face he cousins help but think of other things. was is possible that she was somehow still alive? on another timeline?
‘mobuis!’ loki hurried to turn to him, who gave a wide-eyed expression.
‘yes?’
‘i have to see her…she can help me—she will understand!’ loki hurried to stand up, taking out his tempad and switching though different timelines.
‘whoa—loki, you can’t just—‘
‘i’ll be back! i promise i just—i really need to see her, okay? i really need to’ loki silently begged mobuis who was slowly trying to believe and accept his decision. once he came with a conclusion he nodded with a sigh.
‘go ahead…and be right back!’
‘i will!’ loki yelled before looking up to see the yellow door.
once he walked through, Mobius stood by and waited.
‘i will!’ loki yelled before looking up to see the yellow door.
once he walked through, Mobius stood by and waited.
ㆍ୨୧ㆍ
just behind that yellow door in a wooden home with the beautiful view of trees, tall grass and even some horses. loki looked around a bit shocked to say the least, the y/n he knew from universes ago said she’d quote—
‘never live on a countryside cabin because it reminds me of the scary movie of cabin in the woods where everyone dies’
loki thought it was a bit funny but he didn’t beg her to move out of the city.
hesitantly loki shifted his clothes into something more simple and cleared his throat before combing his fingers through his hair.
walking up onto the wooden porch that was very spacious, it held two wooden rocking chairs and a small table in the middle of it with a cup of tea that looked to be recently drunk out of.
looking at the screen door that was followed with another door on the other said he opened the screen door and knocked on it.
heavily breathing with nothing but nervousness he cleared his throat again and waiting. he even heard a dog bark as he waited for the door to open. and oh boy—once it did.
another you came from behind the screen door with pajama pants on and a cropped shirt that looked a bit tight, as he looked down your figure he noticed a very prominent swollen belly.
you were pregnant?
‘loki? what are you doing here? I thought you just left?’ you wondered as you opened the door for him with a warm smile on your face.
he didn’t know what to say, he hasn’t talked to you since you left the avengers due to personal reasons. loki had knew where you were but didn’t want to bother you.
‘yes, i…well, i just thought i wanted to talk to you more’ he smiled down at you as you smiled and softly laughed with a shake of your head.
‘your so sweet, but we’ve talked all day—‘
‘i want to talk more’ he shrugged while you just laughed it off.
‘okay well; i was about to make dinner and your favorite dessert with some ice cream and (f/s) for the baby because she is every spoiled even before being born can your believe it?’ you laughed as you walked to the kitchen.
your little walk made him smile a bit at the fact the other you said you’d never get pregnant in a million years because life are little demons.
‘well, we need to give her any and everything she wants to stay happy, including you of course—‘
‘including me! that’s so sweet’ you teased once more with a tilt of your head and a smile.
he let the room fall silent for a bit before he remembered what was going on in the other world. sighing as he sat down in a chair you had noticed his face fall from his smile. frowning your eyebrows you walked over to him with bread in your hand as you ate it.
‘what’s wrong?’ you asked him while placing your hand down onto his face, soothingly moving your thumb under his eye.
he felt himself crumble, immediately. moving his head forward to press onto the side of your body he held his face there and let his arms hug your waist. you had felt his shoulder shake a bit which you immediately stuffed the rest of your bread into your mouth and sat onto his lap to completely wrap your arms around his shoulder.
‘oh, oh no—what’s wrong?’ you concerningly asked while hugging him as tight at you could without your stomach becoming smashed into him.
‘i don’t know? it’s just…i can’t think straight anymore like i used to and i don’t know what to do. the life i want seems to not want me and i can’t understand what i need to do’ he sighed while laying into you completely.
frowning your eyebrows and letting your eyes show sadness you shook your head a bit, forcing his head up gently.
‘you do know what to do loki. you know exactly what to do. how do i know? because i know you. i know that you always figure a way out and through, you always know what needs to be done and you know what is in store for you. your life is yours to shape, fate isn’t real, not with you around’ you smiled sadly as he let a tear drop.
leaning forward with nothing to say he let his lips smash against yours with nothing but love and passion. you were quick to reciprocate as you held the back of his head. letting your hand play through his hair.
he let himself fall into your neck as he inhaled your scent and hugged you tighter once more. giving him a kiss on the head as he closed his eyes, loki felt himself in complete comfort and control of his mind once more.
he didn’t want to leave. he never wanted to leave. maybe he could just send the loki you know and married into the portal and keep him there. letting the idea cross his mind he sighed and knew it was probably time to go since mobius was waiting with a open portal door in your yard.
sighing before he stood up he held your hand in his—‘i have to go back to where i said i was going…i’ve got to get that stuff we need—‘
‘ugh yes! before you do please please please! get the pickles with the cheese and hot sauce? i’ve been craving it since last night!’ you whined while holding your chin against his chest and looking up at him. he laughed and nodded while leaving down to hold your face between his hands and kissing your lips passionately once more.
you gave a smile before he walked out the door.
‘bye! come back as soon as you can okay? i need that food and a back massage’ you teased but with seriousness before winking as he nodded and let you shut the door.
when you did he sighed and closed his eyes to process what happened and how you’ve had a baby on the way. realistically speaking, the baby was his as well, so he thought of ways to come back and see the baby.
before he left of course he made the pickles, cheese and hot sauce appear on the pouch near the door for the other loki who may not have gotten the food you wanted.
walking to the portal, loki saw mobius who grinned.
‘get what you needed?’
‘of course, and i knew what we need to do, let’s go’
Hey there! I was wondering if I could request a cute little Loki x reader oneshot where Loki and reader just has a baby together and Loki is kinda like showing off how cute their baby is and how proud of reader he is??🙃 and maybe he’s like bragging and reader is kinda eavesdropping and giggling?
thank you :D
Daddy’s girl
Comfort
Loki never thought he could be any happier after being with you but to his utter surprise everything changed when you gave birth to the bundle of joy.
He caressed the soft chubby cheek of his baby girl, she was curiously watching him with her big green eyes, a trait he was very proud of passing off but still very pleased that everything else came from your side.
She had just woken up from her nap, not hungry and her diaper just changed, enjoying the attention her daddy was giving her.
"Aren’t you the most gorgeous being I have ever seen" he kissed her forehead and walked out to the area where everyone was waiting to meet the new little princess.
Wanda hurried to be the first to hold her and squealed happily at the awaken baby "Oh great heavens she looks beautiful, the most precious little thing"
The other surrounded Wanda to take a look at the little girl, Loki felt a heave pang of pride as he heard everyone complement his baby.
His little one, the one you graced him of bringing to this world.
"She takes after her mother, a beautiful strong and delicate flower she will grow up to be"
The baby girl cooed at the many people staring at her adoringly, clearly enjoying all the attention and being the center of everyone’s conversation.
"And this right here is all you Loki, attention seeker" Natasha chuckled.
Loki grinned mischievously "And doing it with the most adorable little face, what can I say? She’s her daddy’s girl"
"Oh my god let’s hope you don’t inherit your daddy’s mischief behavior now" Wanda booped the baby’s nose.
The baby girl smiled softly, showing her little dimples, everyone awed at the sight before handing her back to Loki.
He looked adoringly down at her "I’m so happy you are finally here my little princess, my dove did a wonderful job of taking care of you inside her, I’m so proud and I hope you know, you will be loved to bits just like your dear mother" he whispered to his baby, unknowingly to him that you were standing near the doorway, hearing everyone word and clenching your chest in pure bliss with the stupidest grin on your face.
And maybe just maybe when time is right you’ll let him live the same feeling again, but for now, he can enjoying showing off your baby and dotting on you till you get sick of it.
Could I please have some wally having cuteness agression🤤🫶 or reader having cuteness aggression for wally because he's my meow meow
-🍎
apple of my eye ⋆.˚
You’ve been stuck on Wally's lap for the better half of an hour, not that you’re really complaining, he’s warm and a good kisser, but he really does have wandering hands. From cradling your cheeks in his calloused palms, to tracing the curves of your waist, and all the way down to grasp your hips. You're situated in his lap, doing your best to keep still, speedsters are known for being easily excitable after all. With your arms loosely draped around his shoulders, you pull away from his kisses for a heavy breath. Wally tries tipping his face up some more to kiss you but you turn your face to the side to avoid it.
"Hey, what's the big idea?" He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, cheeks flushed all the way up to the tips of his ears and probably down to his chest. Makes his freckles stand out more. "The deal is that you've totally sucked all the air outta my lungs." You try to chide, brushing his hair back firmly, he leans up into it like a stupid cat. “I’ll be gentle this time, promise.” Wally replies solemnly, wriggling his pinky in front of your face, quickly pulling it back just before you can bite it off.
You fall for his boyish charms, because who could withstand them? Wally starts off sweet, a little peck to the corner of your mouth, brushing your hair away from your face. But around you it's like his brain just turns to bubble gum, laying you down onto your own frilly sheets, sucking your tongue into his mouth and laving the inside of your mouth with his drool, once again stealing all the oxygen residing in your lungs. "Mmph--liar!" You turn your head away with a weak hiccup, breathing heavily like you ran more than you should've. "Sorry!" Wally squeaks, ducking his head to nuzzle your chest, he's a blur, and in the blink of an eye his big head is underneath your shirt, orange hair poking from the neck of your shirt as he rubs his cheek against your chest. He likes skin to skin.
"What is your deal?!" You're exasperated, lifting your shirt to reveal his head, pushing him away. But Wally just sees the frizz of your hair, the cute pout of your lips, and the furrow between your brows and swears his heart grows a size bigger. "The deal is that I love you!! My baby...my wittle snookums." Wally all but coos, smushing your cheeks together before you can make fun of him, he kisses your puckered lips with a loud Muah!
"I swear I've never seen anything, or anyone, cuter than you." Wally speaks as though it's a shame. You can't even reply because his next act is to wrap his arms around you and squeeze, his skin vibrates against yours and even makes you a little hot from the friction. "Wally!" You wriggle uncomfortably and he smacks another apologetic kiss against your cheek. "Were you trying to phase through me?"
"I just wanna be close to you." Wally mumbles, slumping on top of you, adjusting your hands to try and coax you into petting him. You oblige and he gives you another squeeze. Weirdo.
dividers by @lunardividers
a/n: thank you for the request, i hope it was sufficient ^__^
Jason Todd was not a man who played games with you.
He didn’t do psychological warfare, didn’t do silent treatment, didn’t do riddles or petty tests. He loved you like he shot: straight, hard, and direct. When he wanted something, he said it. When he felt something, he showed it.
So the fact that Tim of all people wormed his way into Jason’s head was, frankly, a personal tragedy.
“Couples always hide things from each other,” Tim had said in that smug, insufferably matter-of-fact voice. “Even healthy ones. Don’t be naïve, Jason. You think she tells you everything?”
Jason scoffed at the time. “Yes? She literally can’t lie to me. Her face does the thing.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Everyone hides something. Test her.”
“Test...Are you insane? I’m not mind-tricking my girlfriend.”
Tim pushed his glasses up. “Just ask her. Make a serious face. ‘I know what you’re hiding.’ If she spills immediately, she’s honest. If not…well.”
Jason had rolled his eyes.
Said he’d never do it.
And then, ten hours later…
He was pacing the bedroom, psyching himself up like a man about to commit a felony.
“She’s an angel,” he muttered to himself. “She can’t hide anything worse than…than forgetting to water the plants. Why am I doing this. Why am I listening to Timothy. Why am I...”
You walked in.
“Hi,” you smiled, soft, easy. “What are you doing?”
Jason froze.
He had planned to look serious.
He had planned to look intimidating.
He had planned to look like Red Hood interrogating a gang lieutenant.
But you smiled at him and all his internal wiring short-circuited.
Still…he powered through.
For science.
For pride.
For the fact that Tim would never shut up if he bailed now.
He cleared his throat. Straightened up.
Set his face into the most grave, solemn expression he could muster.
“Babe,” he said, voice low, controlled.
“I know what you’re hiding.”
You blinked.
He pushed forward.
“And how long,” he asked, eyes narrowing with faux-gravity, “did you think you could keep this up?”
There. Perfect.
Tim would be proud.
Except…
Your eyes widened.
Your lips parted.
Your breath hitched.
And you looked...
Nervous.
Jason’s stomach plummeted.
Oh god.
OH GOD.
“I...Jason, I...” you stammered, fiddling with your fingers. “I didn’t think you’d find out yet.”
Jason’s soul left his body.
Tim was wrong.
Tim was wrong about everything.
Tim was a demon child who had poisoned him with doubt.
You were perfect...you would never...
But you were still fidgeting.
Still looking like you’d been caught by the IRS.
Jason’s voice cracked. “Baby…what...what did you hide?”
You swallowed, cheeks flushing with guilt.
Then you whispered:
“…chocolate.”
Jason stared.
“I have a secret chocolate stash,” you blurted out miserably. “I hid it because I told you I’d cut back but the sale was really good and I impulse-bought a giant bundle of fancy bars and I didn’t want you to know because you’re so good at self-control and I’m…not.”
Jason blinked.
Once.
Twice.
But you weren’t done.
“And...I also bought a bunch of new notebooks. I don’t know why. They were pretty. And now I have seventeen unused notebooks and I don’t know what to do with them but I can’t get rid of them because what if I need them for something? And I’m sorry I hid it, I wasn’t trying to be secretive, I just...”
Jason’s mouth fell open.
That was it.
Chocolate and notebooks.
That was your “dark secret.”
And suddenly...suddenly, Jason wanted to strangle Tim Drake with his bare hands.
He inhaled deeply.
Then he walked over, cupped your face gently, and kissed your forehead.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured. “Baby. Angel. Light of my miserable life.”
You blinked up at him, still anxious.
“I thought you were hiding something actually serious.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, expression softening with every second of relief. “You’re allowed to have chocolate. You’re allowed to buy pretty notebooks. You don’t have to confess that stuff like a crime.”
You sniffed. “But I lied.”
“No,” Jason said firmly. “You…omitted. About snacks. And stationery.”
He kissed your nose. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
You sagged against him, relieved.
Jason wrapped you up in his arms, soft and sure again.
And as he held you, he made a mental note:
He was never, NEVER, listening to Tim Drake ever again.
When you finally calmed down, you peeked up at him.
“…so you don’t think I’m hiding something terrible?”
Jason laughed into your hair.
“Baby,” he said. “You couldn’t hide a tragic secret if your life depended on it. Your face does the scrunchy thing.”
You gasped indignantly. “It does not!”
“It absolutely does,” he grinned. “And it’s adorable.”
You pout-smacked his chest.
He kissed your pouting mouth.
And in the back of his mind:
Tim is getting payback.
a/n: Credit for fanart - @ rad-ishradish and @ montic0 on Tumblr
𖥔 ✴️ . ノ His brothers like to crash at your place . . .
with JASON TODD ◜ content ⸝⸝ short n' sweet . i didn't mention the girls :( ! ୧ head empty just batfamily ♡
It's quiet when you both turn in to sleep ― warm, comfortable ... shielded from the filth of Gotham. His heavy duty and your deep-rooted fears, far from your guys mind. Your face is turned towards his, head nestled comfortably under his chin, and ... Jason breathes softly, in n' out ... It's calm ... quiet ... Maybe even a little too quiet ? You hear the faint noise of the city below your apartment complex and all the way down the streets. Traffic, sirens ― it's all a familiar sound that would usually lull you right to sleep. Even the light rumbling of your partners' chest ― not quite snoring, but something close ― normally has you knocked out in under five minutes. But ...
The doorbell. It's a sharp tone in the otherwise silent apartment, that has your eyes wide open again, and Jason on his last nerve. You hear him sigh. Annoyed, yes, but also in a way that tells you ― he has an idea of who that might be. It's still dark, and you can barely see just what he's really doing, but you feel how he peels his side of the blanket away, muttering something like 'jus' sleep, i'll check' which is barely audible by how sleep drunken he sounds. Then, he's already out of the bedroom, lazily walking towards the door, already dreading which bat will greet him at such an hour ...
When he finally opens it, it's ... Richard Grayson, grinning. The sight has another heavy sigh escape him. "Yeah?" Jason liked to pretend that it was unusual for his brothers to show up ― which it wasn't. He also liked to pretend that he never lets them stay ― but he does. And it ― embarrassingly so ― never even takes that long to convince him. When asked, though, Jason claims it's because he rather gets right back to sleep than argue with any of his brothers.
Everyone believes him. Not.
So, Jason just steps aside and lets a much too triumphal looking Dick crash on the couch.
You hear them talk, hushed, comfortable, and soon enough, Jason is back in your bedroom, making sure to close the door behind him as he crawls back to you and underneath the sheets. "S' he okay?" You ask softly, shifting back into your previous position, flush against his chest as you breathe out, content. You're used to Richard coming over and crashing, so you're more concerned on why. Wouldn't be the first time he came over bloodied and beaten, much more eager to let you patch him up than have the batman give him a lecture. "He's fine. Will be gone in the morning."
'He doesn't want to deal with Bruce today' is what he wants to say, but he doesn't want his father to be the last thing he thinks about before going back to sleep. So he just presses a kiss against your forehead and tells you to go back to sleep.
You do, for maybe a minute, then there's a loud crash somewhere, and you're obviously wide awake again. This time, Jason doesn't even pretend to 'go check' because it's one of two people ― and he has this vague idea that it must be Tim, by how stupid his landing was. Probably came through the wrong window and fell right into that new Vase you bought.
Great.
You quietly follow behind when he leaves the bedroom again. You carry a blanket and a smaller pillow that you know is more comfortable than whatever pillows you keep in the living room, handing both to a drowsy Dick when he opens one eye ― not even bothering to check what caused such a loud noise in your guys' apartment. He just thanks you, turns around and goes right back to snoring. It's sweet, you think, how he feels more at ease here, than the large Mansion of his father...
"Go home, Tim," You hear your boyfriend mutter and follow his voice to the kitchen. His brows are furrowed as he watches the boy ― still glad in his suit ― try and puzzle the vase back together. "It's fine, we'll clean it tomorrow..." you find yourself saying, offering the kid a reassuring smile when he sheepishly lets it all fall back together. You know why he's here ― Jason knows too... and it goes without saying that he, too, is always allowed to stay. Even when Jay plays the annoyed older brother, grumbling and huffing when you show Tim the foldable sofa in your bedroom ( the one you guys bought specifically for nights like this ... )
He gets the last spare blanket, and a pillow, and he's good to go, bright smile and rosy cheeks when he thanks you so genuinely, you almost tear up a little. Your boyfriend grunts something about it being 'the last damn time' and Tim just nods. It won't be the last time. Jason acts like his brothers are intruding ― you know better.
Then everything slowly settles. It gets quiet again, there is the occasional shifting of blankets and pillows ― but, everyone seems asleep. Jason is cuddled against you, you can hear the faint snoring of Dick, and even Tim smacks his lips in deep content.
Yet, you can't help but feel like something is still not right. And like the universe agrees with you because ― of course, someone is still missing ― you hear the noise of your window being shoved open, with careful, skillful little hands... and soon enough, a smaller body wedges itself right between you and Jason as if it belongs. You don't say anything, and neither does he ― Damian Wayne fits right in the middle, barely three apples, yet he gets comfortable as if he owns the place. And you know Jason is rolling his eyes, deeply annoyed and beyond done with having so many siblings seeking him out when he just wants to spend time at his apartment with his partner. But even he is quiet and settles easy, his arm lazily thrown over his youngest brother and you, shifting the blanket so that all three of you are warm.
It's the sounds of a full apartment that finally lets you find comfortable sleep ― the warmth of two bodies right next to you ( of which the smaller keeps his hand laced with yours, as if you would ever even dare leave during the night ).
When morning comes, your sofa is empty, the vase glued back together and one demon child can't even look at you because he knows you're aware he's been clinging. He's embarrassed, you ruffle his hair, and together with Jason you bring him back to the Manor. You know it won't be the last time... and you honestly don't mind.
someone take " ... " away from me / i wrote this for myself honestly ―
content: slight nsfw if you squint, but mainly sfw - established relationship, pregnancy, just an overview. fluffy and sweet. slight spoilers regarding dabi for new fans.
a/n: another post making two in a row! this time i'm here with a request from anon - dabi’s version of my shoto work baby mine. thank you so much for requesting, i had fun writing this! i hope you all enjoy! part at the end inspired by this video that was posted by an amazing moot of mine (video now links to the og creator insta). as always, likes, comments and re-blogs are deeply appreciated.
Picking at your fingers, you glanced at the door, waiting for a figure to walk back through. Time seemed to be against you, the minutes passing agonisingly slow, almost mocking you. The way your stomach churned didn’t help how you were feeling, the way the sickening feeling took over your body. Tearing your eyes away for a moment, you closed them, sucking in a breath before exhaling it slowly.
The sound of the door clicking shut made you open your eyes, gaze turning to the figure that stood there. Eyes looked over you before their owner walked forward, bag in hand. "Here, I managed to get quite a few different ones 'cause I know you'd only complain if I didn't".
Tutting, you rolled your eyes before grabbing the bag, a small smile tugging at your lips as you stood. Resting your hand on the figure's arm, you stood on your tip toes and placed a kiss on their cheek. "Thank you, my love. I won't be long".
Quickly walking out of the room, you made your way to the bathroom and shut the door behind you, eyes scanning for a container. Once you managed to find one, you did what you needed to do, placing the yellow liquid on the side.
One by one, you dipped the tests, placing each one to the side to complete.
By the time you finished dipping the last one, dumping the liquid and washing your hands, the first few tests you took were finished. Sucking in a breath, you glanced at the sticks, eyes widening. "Fuck!".
There, as clear as day, were lines and words. Lines and words that were all telling you the same thing.
You were pregnant.
Letting out a sigh, you placed your hands on the counter, head hanging low as you tried to come to terms with the news. The news that inside you was a child who was half you and your fiancé. You didn't know how he would take it, and naturally, you were scared to find out.
The clicking of the door opening caused your head to shoot up, looking over your shoulder at the figure that stood there. "Well?". His voice lulling you slightly. Pushing yourself off the counter, you turned around and motioned behind you. "Take a look for yourself".
Heavy footsteps thudded on the floor as the figure walked towards you, stopping just short of you as they looked over your shoulder. "Well fuck". Crossing your arms, you rolled your eyes. "Exactly, fuck".
The pair of you stood there in silence for a few moments, neither of you daring to say anything until he broke the silence. "How the fuck did this happen?".
Raising your brow, you looked at him. "Are you serious? How else did you think it happened? I told you the fucking condom broke. I got caught up in that week long mission before I could get the morning after pill".
Bringing your hands up to your face, you ran them over your skin as you breathed out. "What are we going to do?". The crack in your voice became evident. You were scared, scared that he would leave you to deal with this all by yourself.
Arms wrapped around you as you felt your body being pulled closer to your fiancé. Kisses were placed on top of your head as he rubbed your back. "Whatever you choose, doll, I'll stand by you".
Pulling back, you looked up, tears lining your eyes as you scanned his face for any sign of a lie. "You mean that Touya?". Humming, he nodded his head. "I do".
⛧ Month 2 ⛧
Things changed almost overnight. You were rarely out on missions, and if you were, Dabi was always by your side. The pair of you decided to keep things quiet for now, trying to get used to the fact that you were going to be parents.
It wasn't an easy choice; you both talked things through. Given his past, what he went through and who he was now, Dabi struggled with the possibility of being a dad. But he didn't let that stop him.
At every chance he got, he spent time reading and researching. How to cope with his feelings, how to help you with yours and ultimately, how to give the best life he could for your little one.
Looking down at your still soft tummy, you let your hand over for a moment, still scared to touch where your child was growing. "Tou, what if I'm kidding myself? What if I'm a failure to them?".
Kisses silenced your words, eyes closing as you wrapped your arms around his neck. After a few moments, you felt the sensation leave, eyes opening to gaze at turquoise ones. "You'll be the best mother there is to our little button".
⛧ Month 3 ⛧
Opening the heavy door, it let out a loud groan as you stepped into the room. A variety of different tubes, equipment and wires were scattered all over the place. With another heavy groan, the door shut behind you before you walked forward, gripping onto Dabi's arm as you walked further into the room.
Eyes glancing around, you took in everything around you until you reached the screens at the front. There sat a lone figure, an older man who you weren't too familiar with, at least not face-to-face. "I see you made it, Dabi. Wasn't too much trouble for you, I take it?".
The clicking tongue of the figure beside you caused you to look up at him. "Not at all. Now, where do you want her to lie?".
The sound of a chair scraping the floor caused you to look forward, eyes landing on the old man. "Ahhh, yes. We haven't properly met but you've heard my voice before. I'm Kyudai, but you can call me Doctor. Now, this way, little one".
Feeling a squeeze on your hand, you looked at Dabi and smiled slightly, stepping forward to follow the doctor to a pristine-looking bed. Something that seemed oddly out of place in this environment.
Once motioned to get onto the bed, you did just that, unbuttoning your trousers and pulling them just below your tummy before you got comfortable.
Cold jelly was placed onto your skin, causing you to hiss slightly. "Now, let's have a look, okay?". Nodding your head, you stared at the screen as the probe glided over where the jelly was applied, feeling a hand grip yours as you swallowed a lump.
Ba-bump. Ba-bump.
The sound made your eyes widen, tears lining as you stared at the screen. There, in black and white, was a tiny figure. Little arms and legs. Small head with a tiny heartbeat just visible in its chest. "Such a strong heartbeat, this little one will be strong".
Tearing your gaze from the screen, you looked over to Dabi, whose eyes were fixed on the image. His face was hard to read to the untrained eye, but you saw it. The way the corner of his lip moved up, a small smile tugging at his lips.
A smile directed at the baby he saw that made some part of his heart swell even more with love.
⛧ Month 4 ⛧
Another month had passed, and your body was starting to show signs of the life growing within you. Your clothes began to feel tight, and your tummy and breasts began to swell.
Toga was the first to notice. You'd been out for the day, helping her gather some bits needed for an upcoming mission, when you stopped, one hand against the wall as you caught your breath, the other resting on your small bump. "So, when were you going to tell me?".
Blinking, you looked at her confused before looking down, face softening as you smiled. "I'm not too sure. We're still not used to it ourselves".
Needless to say, when you returned to the hideout and sat down on the sofa, you were inundated with questions. Toga letting it slip to the rest of the league that you were pregnant.
By the time Dabi returned from what he was doing, he found you in the middle of both Toga and Twice, who wouldn't stop chattering about names and everything else.
Clicking his tongue, the raven-haired male stepped forward and pushed his way between you and Twice, pulling you closer as he let his hand go under your top, resting it on your tummy, thumb slowly stroking the skin just above where your child was.
⛧ Month 5 ⛧
You know this was around the time when most expectant parents would be going for scans, finding out the gender of their babies, meaning they were able to plan every last detail.
Both you and Dabi had decided you didn't want to know, opting for scans now and then to make sure everything was going okay with the life within.
The sight of the small figure on the screen never failed to amaze you, eyes watching how it wriggled, the butterflies deep within accompanying each movement.
Dabi, on the other hand, sat and watched as he struggled to come to terms with what was happening. It was hard for him to admit that the thoughts he's been having lately weren't helping with how he felt.
Doubts plagued his mind whenever he was alone, doubts that melted away the moment you took hold of his hand. Thoughts that became non-existent as he watched your body change.
The pair of you may be villains, but you were certain your child would want for nothing and wouldn't be dragged into the life you were living.
⛧ Month 6 ⛧
Somehow, life began to change for you and Dabi. Things seemed to fall into place. From living in the hideout to finding a home long abandoned tucked out of the way, you couldn't believe your luck.
Looking around the room you were standing in, you took in the sight of all the items in front of you.
Toys, clothes, furniture.
While you knew where this stuff had come from, you weren't about to argue, especially when Toga and Twice showed up with a teddy bear that was twice the size of you.
Arms wrapped around your waist, hands resting on your swollen tummy as you leaned back, eyes closing, feeling the small thumping of their tiny feet kicking. It only took a moment before you felt tears slip down your cheeks, the feeling of everything overwhelming you all at once. "Baby doll, what's wrong?".
At the sound of the words, you sobbed harder, much to the panic of Dabi.
That was the day he found out that being pregnant meant that you were at the mercy of your hormones, the mood swings making him chuckle slightly.
⛧ Month 7 ⛧
Dabi loved seeing the way your body changed as the days passed. The way your figure grew fuller, tummy rounding more as you kept your child safe and breast swelling with milk.
Something about the way you looked stirred something within him. The way people would stare at you both when you were out, his pride swelling knowing he was the one responsible for having you in this state. Pride that no one else would ever fill you in the same way.
He couldn't keep his hands to himself. He loved the way you were overly sensitive at the best of times, how you would whine and moan out for him, begging him to help put out this fire you felt deep within. The fire that led to you being in this situation in the first place.
And while you both had no family that seemed to care, the way the league would rally around you both made you both smile in gratefulness.
The way Toga would touch your bump carefully, using her quirk to speak to your unborn child in a variety of different voices. The small gesture made Dabi wonder what his mother and sister would be like if they ever knew about him and you.
How would they embrace the pair of you? What stories would they share to embarrass him?
⛧ Month 8 ⛧
The weight of your unborn child began to take its toll on you. Your body ached, and you felt tired. Every time you moved, you felt pressure, pressure that made your breath hitch in your chest.
While you felt sore, you couldn't stop the nesting that came along with it. The overwhelming need to clean and make sure everything was prepared properly for when you brought home your baby. "Not too long now, doll".
Your tired eyes looked at Dabi, a weary smile tugging at your lips as you rested your hand on your swollen tummy. "I know Tou, I just want this to be over with already".
Arms wrapped around your waist as a kiss was placed on top of your head, you felt your bump being lifted. A sigh of relief passed your lips as you leant back, hand moving to cup one of the ones that cradled your tummy.
Dabi hated not being able to help you, to take away the heaviness you felt. He may be a villain who enjoyed watching the way people suffered at his hands, but seeing you suffer, it broke him. He knew you both wanted this, but it still didn't stop him from worrying about you.
⛧ Month 9 ⛧
A loud cry rang out in the room, piercing the silence as you looked at Dabi, tears falling from your eyes as you smiled tiredly. After a long labour, you finally welcomed your child into the world. Nearly every emotion hitting you at once as you gripped onto your fiancé. "My sweet doll, you've done it".
Closing your eyes as you felt a kiss on your head, panting softly for breath as the adrenaline continued to course through your veins. Eyes opening slowly, before a small bundle was placed into your arms. "Hello there, our perfect little angel".
A soft cry sounded from the baby before it snuggled up to your chest, beginning to suckle as it took its first feed from you. A sight that Dabi would burn into his memory. "So, Tou, are you ready to find out what this little one is?".
Looking down, you stroked the cheek of the baby on your chest. Once settled, you moved the blanket slightly, a smile tugging at your lips. "Well, why don't you come over here and say hello to your son, Touya?".
You glanced at Dabi, who looked back at you, taking a moment to catch up with your words. The villain's walls tumbling down as he walked over, eyes gazing at his son.
The child who would hold the deepest parts of him like you did.
⛧ The first few years ⛧
While the feeling of being on cloud nine didn't leave, the long nights felt like they'd never end. The countless feeds and the endless changes made the first few months seem overwhelming.
Touya was the first to admit it was hard. Harder than he thought it would be. He spent many nights questioning himself when his son wouldn't calm down for him. Self-conscious of his looks, feeling like it was the main reason why.
He struggled at the best of times, but he never had the idea of leaving. This was something you both wanted; he just had to adjust. He lost three years of his life, and it took him a while to get used to growing up again.
With words of encouragement from you, he slowly became more confident.
As time passed, things got easier. The way his son would smile at him, run his tiny fingers over his scars as he giggled out. The way he would reach out for his daddy, giving cuddles and kisses like he was the most amazing person in the world.
To this little boy, he was everything.
Then came the days he began walking and talking. The first time Dabi heard him say "Daddy", the blue-flame villain broke down. To everyone out there, aside from you and the league, he was a villain
But to this little boy, he was the most amazing person in the world. The one who would right all the wrongs.
Even when the youngster's quirk awoke, Dabi took his time to guide the little boy, showing his own blue flames off much to the wonder of the young child. Making sure to give him the childhood he never had.
All while you watched, a contented smile on your face, your figure swollen with another child to carry on his legacy.
"I'll burn the world just to see you smile. I'll always be the hero in yours, your mommy's and baby sister's lives".
Summary: He never told anyone your name, not even his team. But when Ghost is forced to list every loved one for evacuation, the secret he’s guarded most is revealed.
The briefing room smelled faintly of oil and stale coffee.
Rain hit the windows in soft, rhythmic taps, a dull echo to the silence that hung over Taskforce 141.
The last mission had gone wrong, terribly wrong.
They were all back now, bruised, burnt out, and carrying the weight of lives lost.
Ghost stood near the back, arms crossed, mask on, eyes fixed on the table rather than the woman at the front of the room.
Their supervisor, Commander Hale, didn’t waste time.
Her tone was professional, the kind of calm that came after chaos.
“You did what you could,” she said, scanning each of them in turn. “The situation was unpredictable. But now, we plan again. You’ll have a few days to rest while intelligence recalibrates. Until then, we are moving into full security lockdown.”
Soap, sitting forward in his chair, frowned.
“Lockdown? We’ve only just got back. Can’t exactly rest if we’re trapped in here.”
Hale gave him a look that shut him up instantly.
“This isn’t optional, Sergeant. Until we confirm that the operation isn’t compromised, no one comes or goes. Every soldier, every family member, every civilian connected to this team will be accounted for.”
That pulled the room to a halt. Even Price’s brows drew together.
Gaz was the first to speak.
“Every family member?”
“Yes,” Hale said. “We’ll be retrieving all immediate family or loved ones and bringing them here to the secure compound. Names will remain confidential. You’ll each submit one list, privately, by the end of the day.”
Soap gave a low whistle.
“That’s a lot of paperwork for one bloody mess.”
“Paperwork keeps people alive,” Hale replied shortly.
The meeting went on, outlining security measures and temporary restrictions. Ghost barely listened.
He stood motionless, staring at the single sheet of paper placed in front of him.
Name of family member or significant other for extraction.
He could almost hear Price’s pen scratching quietly beside him. Soap mutters something under his breath. Gaz sighed as he folded his arms.
But Ghost’s hand didn’t move. Not yet.
No one in this room knew about you. Not one.
For four years, he had kept you tucked safely behind a wall of silence. It was easier that way.
Better for you, better for him. His life was fire and gunpowder. Yours was peace.
He had built that distance carefully, one secret at a time.
“Ghost.”
Price’s voice pulled him back. Everyone else was already getting up, chairs scraping against the floor.
“You good, son?” Price asked.
Ghost nodded once.
“Fine.”
Price studied him for a moment but didn’t push.
“Right. Don’t take too long filling that in. Hale’ll have our heads if we miss the deadline.”
Ghost didn’t answer.
He waited until the others had left, until the room was empty, quiet but for the soft hum of the ceiling lights. Then he reached for the pen.
He hesitated, the nib hovering above the page. His heart beat slow and heavy, a rhythm he had long learned to ignore.
He wrote your name. Carefully. Each letter is neat.
It felt strange, seeing it there, printed in ink on a military form.
Simon Riley had never written your name in any official capacity. Not in reports, not in files, not even on his own records. You existed in a place separate from this world, the one place that was still his to protect.
He signed the form and folded it once.
When he dropped it off at Hale’s office, she barely looked up.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. You’ll be notified when extraction is confirmed.”
He nodded, left the room, and walked straight to the mess.
Soap and Gaz were already there, trading jokes over half-empty plates. Price sat at the far end, a cup of tea steaming in his hands.
Soap looked up as Ghost walked in.
“Took your time, big man. What, couldn’t decide who to put down? Your pet goldfish?”
Gaz laughed, shaking his head.
“Leave him be, Johnny. Maybe he’s got no one.”
Soap smirked.
“That true, Ghost? No one special?”
Ghost didn’t look at them.
“Something like that.”
Price raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
They ate in relative silence after that. Soap and Gaz’s chatter faded to a murmur as Ghost’s thoughts drifted far from the base, far from the mission, far from this damp grey building.
He saw you instead.
The way you smiled when you cooked breakfast, the way you hummed to the radio when you thought he wasn’t listening, the way you always made him promise to come home.
You had no idea what was coming.
And if everything went right, you never would.
But now, with your name written down in black ink and sitting on Hale’s desk, there was no taking it back.
You were part of this, whether he liked it or not.
---
The knock came just after midnight.
You were half asleep on the sofa, an old film playing on TV, you barely paid attention to.
The sound startled you.
You blinked, sat up, and frowned. No one ever knocked at this hour.
When it came again, louder this time, you felt a chill settle in your stomach.
You got up slowly, crossing the small living room, your hand hovering over the handle.
“Who is it?” you called, your voice uncertain.
There was a pause, then a man’s voice, firm but not aggressive.
“Ma’am, Sergeant Taylor, British Armed Forces. Please open the door.”
You froze. British Armed Forces. The words hit like a stone.
Simon’s world, not yours.
You unlocked the door but only cracked it open. The man on the other side was tall, dressed in black fatigues, another soldier behind him holding a folder and a torch. Rain streaked down their helmets.
“Mrs Riley?” the first one asked.
Your heart stuttered. You hadn’t heard that name spoken aloud in months, not since Simon’s last call.
“Yes,” you said carefully.
“I’m afraid we have orders to relocate you to a secure facility for your safety. You’ll need to come with us immediately.”
“Relocate me?” You shook your head, gripping the edge of the door. “What are you talking about? Is Simon alright?”
The second soldier lowered his gaze slightly.
“We’re not at liberty to discuss operational details, ma’am. All we can say is that this is precautionary. Your husband requested it personally.”
The words made your breath catch.
“Simon did?”
“Yes, ma’am. You’ll need to pack a bag. Essentials only. We’ll handle the rest.”
You hesitated, fear and confusion twisting together in your chest.
Still, you nodded and moved to grab a rucksack, stuffing in clothes, a photo from the mantle, and the ring Simon had left you when he deployed.
The soldiers waited silently by the door.
When you stepped outside, the cold rain hit your face.
A vehicle was waiting at the kerb, engine running, lights dimmed. You climbed in, heart hammering, your mind a whirl of questions.
The drive was long and quiet. You tried to ask where you were going, but they didn’t answer.
By the time you arrived, dawn was a faint grey line on the horizon.
The facility looked nothing like what you imagined.
Not some bunker or base, but a sprawling compound of reinforced concrete and steel fences. Armed guards stood at every gate.
They led you inside, down long white corridors that smelled faintly of antiseptic. You passed other civilians, mostly women and a few men, all looking as lost as you felt.
A woman in uniform met you halfway.
Her badge read Dr Lane, Civilian Relations Officer.
She smiled politely, but her tone was rehearsed.
“Mrs Riley, welcome. You’ve been brought here for your safety. Please follow me, and we’ll get you settled.”
You followed her through the maze of corridors.
“What is this place?” you asked quietly.
“Secure civilian housing,” she said. “All loved ones of Taskforce personnel are being gathered here until the operation concludes.”
Your throat tightened.
“Taskforce… you mean 141?”
Dr Lane looked at you sharply but didn’t answer. That was enough of an answer on its own.
You were brought to a small room, clean but bare. A bed, a desk, a bathroom through a narrow door.
“Meals are delivered three times a day,” she said. “You’ll be free to walk the designated civilian areas once orientation is complete. You may not discuss your personal connections with anyone, and under no circumstances may you approach Taskforce personnel if you see them. This is for everyone’s safety.”
“I can’t even speak to my husband?”
Her smile faltered slightly.
“Not until clearance is given. I’m sorry.”
You nodded. You knew this was serious.
When she left, you sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall. The quiet was unbearable.
You had spent years learning to live with Simon’s absences, the waiting, the silence. But this was different.
Now, you were close enough to feel his presence in the air, yet not allowed to see him.
Hours passed before you decided to walk. The corridors stretched endlessly, each turn identical to the last. Eventually, you came to a junction and realised you had no idea where you were.
You were retracing your steps when you turned a corner and collided with someone solid.
“Bloody hell,” a voice exclaimed.
Strong Scottish accent.
You stumbled back, muttering an apology, but before you could slip away, you looked up and saw him, Soap, you remembered hearing that name once, in a hushed story Simon had told you long ago.
He blinked in surprise, then grinned.
“No harm done, lass. You alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” you said quickly, ducking your head. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”
Gaz appeared beside him, amused. “You lost?”
“I was just trying to find my room,” you said softly.
Before either could answer, another figure stepped into view. Tall, broad, masked.
Ghost.
Your breath caught, heart lurching painfully.
You looked at him only for a moment before lowering your gaze and brushing past, remembering what you’d been told.
No contact.
Soap frowned as you left.
“Friendly bunch they’ve got here, eh?”
“Poor thing looks terrified.” Gaz shrugged.
Ghost said nothing. But his eyes followed you until you turned the corner and disappeared.
Later, in the dim light of the barracks, Price approached him quietly.
“You alright, son? You looked like you’d seen a ghost earlier.”
Ghost glanced up slowly.
“Something like that.”
---
The next morning came too soon.
You had barely slept, turning restlessly beneath the thin blanket. Every sound from the corridor kept you on edge, every thought circling back to him.
You could almost feel his presence somewhere within these walls, that strange quiet weight that always followed Simon Riley.
A soft knock came at the door just after eight.
“Mrs Riley?” It was Dr Lane’s voice again.
You rose and opened the door, trying to look composed.
“Good morning,” she said. “The Chief would like to see you. It is nothing to worry about, but you are to attend a meeting in Room Twelve. Someone will escort you there.”
You nodded, slipping on a jumper.
“Of course.”
The escort was another soldier, polite but silent.
He led you through the halls until you reached a wide room filled with a long table and several chairs. You recognised Captain Price at once, broad, calm, and commanding. Beside him stood Gaz, then Soap, both straight-backed and attentive.
And at the far end, Ghost.
Your breath hitched the moment your eyes found him. That familiar black mask, the sheer size of him, the stillness that seemed to draw every breath in the room towards him. He didn’t move, but you felt his eyes lock onto you as you entered.
The Chief, a tall woman with a sharp presence, gestured for you to sit opposite her.
“Thank you for coming, Mrs Riley. We’re discussing some final security arrangements before Taskforce 141 returns to the field. I appreciate your cooperation.”
You nodded, though your mind barely registered her words. Your entire focus was on the figure standing a few paces behind her.
Simon hadn’t moved once. Not even when your eyes met.
He stood rigid, hands clasped behind his back, like he was trying to restrain himself.
You forced yourself to keep your composure, to remember what you had been told.
Do not interact. Do not speak.
The Chief continued to outline evacuation procedures, convoy routes, safe zones, and lockdown protocols. You tried to listen, you really did, but the room seemed to blur around you.
When the meeting drew to a close, you stood automatically, preparing to be escorted out. The Chief turned to the soldiers.
“Gentlemen, we’ll continue in my office shortly.” Then she gave you a small, almost knowing smile. “Thank you again, Mrs Riley.”
You were about to leave when you felt it, a touch.
A hand, firm and familiar, resting lightly at the small of your back.
You froze. The Chief glanced over her shoulder, saw who it was, and said nothing.
Instead, she gave the faintest nod before slipping out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Silence followed.
You turned slowly, your heart pounding.
Ghost stood there, mask and all, close enough for you to feel the warmth of him. His gloved hand stayed at your back for a heartbeat longer before he spoke, voice rough, low, and unsteady.
“Couldn’t stay away.”
Your throat tightened.
“Simon,” you breathed.
The sound of his name seemed to break whatever restraint he had been holding onto.
In a single motion, he pulled you into him, his arms closing around you so tightly that you could barely breathe.
You pressed your face against his chest, the thick fabric of his gear cold against your cheek, but his body burning under it.
He buried his face in your hair.
“God, I missed you.”
You reached up, trembling fingers brushing over the mask.
“Let me see you,” you whispered.
He hesitated, then nodded. Slowly, you lifted the skull-patterned fabric over his head. The moment it came free, he exhaled sharply, as if he could finally breathe again.
There he was. The man you had waited months for. The one no one else knew you belonged to. His eyes softened the moment they met yours.
“You look tired,” you said, your voice cracking.
“So do you,” he murmured. His hand came up to your face, thumb tracing the edge of your jaw. “They didn’t tell you anything, did they?”
You shook your head.
“Only that you asked for me to be brought here.”
“I had to,” he said. “Everything’s gone to hell out there. We couldn’t risk anyone being left unprotected. I couldn’t risk you.”
You smiled faintly.
“You and your secrets.”
“Had to keep you safe,” he said, his tone softer than you had ever heard it. “They don’t know about you, and I wanted it to stay that way. But when the command said they were pulling families in, I put your name down without a thought. Didn’t care who found out.”
Your eyes filled before you could stop them.
“You could’ve told me.”
“I know.” He cupped your face in both hands, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. “I’ll make it up to you.”
Before you could reply, he leaned down and kissed you.
It was desperate and aching, like months of silence poured into one single moment.
The world outside the room faded away, the mission, the danger, everything. Just the two of you, standing there, clinging to what little time you had before it was taken again.
When you finally broke apart, you realised the others were still standing nearby, frozen in stunned silence.
Soap was the first to speak, his mouth half open.
“Wait. You’re married? To her?”
Simon let out a quiet sigh, slipping the mask back on, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Aye. Nearly four years.”
Gaz blinked, then grinned.
“Bloody hell, Ghost, didn’t think you had it in you.”
Price gave a low chuckle, shaking his head.
“So that’s what you’ve been hiding all this time.”
"Nice to meet you all." you said with a soft voice.
You could feel the heat rise in your face, but Simon just pulled you slightly behind him, protective even with his own team.
“That’s enough, lads.”
Soap smirked.
“Fair play, mate. She’s lovely.”
Simon gave him a glare that shut him up immediately.
Price clapped him on the shoulder.
“You’ve got yourself a good one, Riley. Keep her close when this is all over.”
Simon looked down at you, eyes softening again.
“That’s the plan.”
---
The building fell quiet after sundown.
The corridors that had been filled with chatter and the echo of boots were now dim and still.
Outside your window, the lights of the compound glowed faintly against the dark, their hum the only sound keeping you company.
You sat on the edge of the bed, hair still damp from a shower, wearing one of the plain T-shirts they had given you.
Sleep would not come.
Every time you closed your eyes, you saw him. The way he had looked at you in the meeting room, the way his hands had trembled slightly when he held your face. The world had narrowed to those few stolen minutes, and now that they were gone, you felt hollow.
You were still lost in thought when a soft knock came at the door.
You froze, heart quickening.
“Who is it?” you asked quietly.
The voice came through, low and unmistakable.
“It’s me.”
You crossed the room and opened the door.
Simon stood there in full gear, the mask back on, but his posture was different now, less soldier, more man.
He looked tired. You stepped aside to let him in, closing the door behind him.
For a few seconds, neither of you spoke. He stood near the wall, head bowed slightly, as though unsure of where to start.
“You shouldn’t be here,” you said softly. “They’ll notice.”
“I don’t care,” he replied, voice low. “Couldn’t leave without seeing you again.”
You took a few steps closer. “When do you go?”
“Tomorrow morning. First light.”
“So soon.”
“They’ve got a new lead. If it works, this might finally end it.”
You tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.
“You always say that.”
He gave a quiet huff that might have been a laugh.
“Yeah. And somehow I always come back.”
That made you smile, faint but real. You reached out, your fingers brushing against the cold fabric of his sleeve.
“You always do.”
He looked down at your hand, then reached up to remove his gloves. When his bare fingers touched yours, it was like warmth returning to something frozen. You laced your fingers together, the silence between you filled with everything you wanted to say but couldn’t.
“Did you get in trouble today?” he asked after a moment, voice gentle.
“For what?”
“For nearly giving me away in front of everyone.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head.
“You’re the one who touched me first.”
“Couldn’t help it.” His tone softened further. “Didn’t like seeing you there, pretending not to know me.”
“I didn’t like it either. But they told me not to speak to anyone. Said it was safer that way.”
He sighed, rubbing his thumb over your hand.
“I know. You did the right thing.”
You looked up at him.
“Simon, what if something happens tomorrow?”
He lifted his head, meeting your gaze.
“Don’t start that.”
“I’m serious. You’ve said yourself this operation is bigger than any before. I need to know you’ll come back.”
He stepped closer until you could feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of your shirt. His hands came to rest on your shoulders, steady and grounding.
“I will,” he said quietly. “You hear me? I’ll come back. Always do.”
You searched his eyes, looking for any trace of doubt.
There was none.
Only that fierce, unyielding determination that had drawn you to him in the first place.
You reached up and cupped his cheek.
“You promise?”
“I swear it.”
You hesitated for a moment, then whispered.
“Take it off.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“What?”
“The mask. Please. I want to see you before you go.”
For a moment he didn’t move, but then his hands rose to the sides of his head. He pulled the mask off slowly, revealing his face, his eyes soft and unguarded in the low light. You traced your thumb across his jaw, over the faint scar near his mouth.
“There you are,” you whispered.
He smiled, small but real.
“You say that every time.”
“Because every time, it feels like finding you again.”
He leaned down and kissed you, slow and steady this time, no rush, no fear. Just a quiet promise between two people who had learned how to say everything without words.
His hand slid into your hair, holding you close until the world outside seemed to fade away.
When you finally pulled apart, you pressed your forehead against his. “Come back to me.”
“I will,” he murmured. “And when I do, we’ll go somewhere quiet. No missions, no secrets. Just us.”
You smiled.
“You always say that too.”
He gave a soft laugh.
“Maybe this time I’ll mean it.”
You walked him to the door, neither of you wanting to be the one to say goodbye. He looked back once before leaving, eyes lingering on you as if to memorise the sight. Then he was gone, the sound of his boots fading down the corridor until there was nothing left but silence.
You stood there for a long time, staring at the empty doorway, whispering a quiet prayer into the dark.
“Come back to me, Simon.”
The facility was different without them.
For days, the air felt heavy, charged with a quiet dread that no one dared to speak aloud.
Soldiers came and went, messages were exchanged behind closed doors, and every passing hour without word made the silence worse.
You tried to keep busy. You helped in the infirmary, offered quiet conversation to the other families who had been brought in, even sat by the window to read. But your thoughts always found their way back to him.
Simon.
Every time you closed your eyes, you saw the way he looked at you before he left, that calm, unbreakable confidence that had always been your anchor.
You repeated his words to yourself over and over, as if they could keep him safe.
I’ll come back. I always do.
But now, on the sixth day, the waiting had become unbearable.
You sat in the dining hall long after everyone else had gone, untouched food in front of you, listening to the rain that had begun to fall outside.
A few soldiers spoke quietly near the door, but you caught only fragments of their words, returning tonight, heavy casualties, mission complete.
You rose from your seat, hands shaking slightly, and walked quickly down the corridor.
The sound of boots and voices grew louder as you neared the main entrance. Through the glass, you saw movement, trucks rolling in under the floodlights, figures climbing out, weary and worn.
You searched every face.
And then, you saw him.
Simon stepped down from one of the trucks, still in his gear, mask in place, moving with the slow, deliberate pace of someone who had seen too much but survived it anyway.
Soap clapped him on the shoulder, Gaz said something that made him huff out a laugh, but his eyes were scanning the crowd.
He was looking for you.
Before you knew it, your feet were moving.
You pushed through the crowd, ignoring the looks and greetings, until you were in front of him. He froze when he saw you, as if unsure whether you were real.
“Simon,” you breathed.
He didn’t speak, just reached for you. His gloved hand caught your arm, pulling you against his chest, the weight of him grounding you in an instant. You pressed your face against his shoulder, the smell of rain and smoke clinging to him.
“You came back,” you whispered, voice shaking.
“Told you I would,” he murmured against your hair.
You pulled back enough to look at him.
“You’re hurt?”
“Nothing serious. Just tired.”
He removed his gloves and reached up to touch your face, his thumb brushing away the tears you hadn’t realised were falling. Around you, the others were still reuniting, but for a moment, there was only him.
Price passed by with a quiet smile, nodding at you both.
“Good to have you back, Ghost,” he said before moving on.
Simon’s gaze softened.
“Told him about you.”
You blinked.
“You did?”
He nodded.
“Figured it was time.”
You smiled faintly.
He stepped closer, one hand still on your cheek, the other sliding around your waist.
“You did well, staying here. Keeping quiet. I know it wasn’t easy.”
“I just wanted you,” you whispered.
“And here I am.”
He lifted his mask slightly, just enough to kiss you, soft, slow, and grounding. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
“I love you,” he said quietly.
You closed your eyes, breathing in the moment. “I love you too.”
The world outside went on but it no longer mattered. He was back.
Later that night, you sat together in your room, the lights dim.
Simon had removed his gear, sitting beside you on the edge of the bed, head bowed slightly as you cleaned a small cut on his arm.
He watched you in silence, eyes warm, almost soft.
“You’ve done that before,” he said quietly.
“Had to learn after the last time,” you replied, dabbing carefully at his skin.
“Always look after me.”
“Someone has to.”
He caught your wrist gently, guiding your hand to his chest.
“I think I’m the one supposed to look after you.”
You smiled at that, shaking your head.
“We’ll call it even.”
He chuckled under his breath.
“Fair enough.”
When you finished, you set the cloth aside. Simon reached up, cupping your jaw with one hand.
“You’re safe now,” he said quietly. “And as long as I’m breathing, you always will be.”
You leaned into his touch.
“Then I’m not afraid of anything.”
He pulled you close until you were against him, your head resting over his heart, the steady rhythm of it the most comforting sound in the world. You stayed like that for a long time, saying nothing, just breathing in the quiet.
Outside, the rain fell softly against the windows, washing the night clean.
A week later, the operation was declared a success.
The enemy network dismantled, hundreds saved.
The Taskforce prepared to leave the facility and return to their base.
When the helicopter lifted off, Simon stood near the window, watching the horizon fade into morning light. You stood beside him, hand in his.
“What now?” you asked.
He looked down at you, eyes soft behind the mask.
“Now, we go home.”
You smiled.
The word felt new again.
Whole.
And for the first time in a long time, so did you.
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
Wattpad
/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/
